I never used to care but in the past five years Halloween has become one of my favorite nights out of the year. Spending the year coming up with crazy costume ideas, trying to figure out what to wear without resorting to anything that has the word “sexy” in front of it and then spending the night out with friends checking out everyone else’s creativity (or lack thereof)…I’m definitely missing it tonight. I’m also bummed to miss seeing Logan dressed up in his costume. I don’t usually go trick or treating with him but I still get to see the costume and hear the stories. It still cracks me up that when he was three or four he bailed on trick or treating because he wanted to stay home and hand out candy himself because he thought “the kids would enjoy it.” The pictures Lori posted from the pumpkin farm were enough to make me hop a plane and come home. I had a dream last night, come to think of it, that I was home for the weekend just to go out for Halloween. I hope you guys are having great fall weather there for it. That was always my favorite part – a crisp sunny day with the last smells of autumn in the air competing against the cold of the winter that is soon to follow...I guess the reports I’ve heard from home are that you’ve gotten gypped on the fall weather though so I can’t be too upset about missing it. I hope it warms up a bit for you as we head to Thanksgiving!
Yesterday there were more funeral bells and so I took up a post in St. Francis Square. It turned out the funeral wasn’t in Victoria but there may be a few here next week. According to Mario (the shop owner/teacher) someone died on the ferry the other day so I’m going to check into that. I ran into him in Independence Square yesterday when he was wandering between his shop down the street and the stand he has in the Square where Grace, his mother, works. He said it was a really slow day so he was going to close early. I have noticed less tourist traffic as the time has progressed here but depending on the day and time if there are enough tour groups and buses in town it can still seem as if they take over the place. It’s amusing watching them as they descend on the city, constrained by the timing of the tour, hustling through Victoria and trying to consume as much of it as possible. Snapping pictures as if they are trapping bugs under a glass – gotcha! It’s so weird in contrast to the slow pace of the island. There’s never a rush or hurry and time is best spent leisurely enjoying the views and the sounds – preferably over a cappuccino. I was witness to this the last time I was in Drewja and saw a bus tour unload to check out the Azure Window. It took a full 5-10 minutes for the whole bus to disembark because it was so full and yet some of the tourists had hopped back on within another 10. I’ve been to the window four times now and each time the magnitude of the natural beauty of the place has been captivating. And I’m not talking 10 minutes captivating. It reminded me of a paper I did in undergrad about tourists as cannibals…maybe I should dust that bad boy off and expand it a little.
I’m going to start my November cemetery tour tomorrow. Three weeks until I head to Belgium and there’s a lot to do. I did laundry again last night and took pictures of the production since so many people have voiced interest (and disbelief) though now that I look at them they look exactly as you’d expect…tubs of wet clothes and a big drying rack. Guess that’s not too exciting so I’ll spare you. I am still having very weird and/or vivid dreams every night...here’s one I had earlier this week…
I had a dream that my family was all in our house, though it wasn’t either of the two houses we’ve lived in. Lori and I were sitting on a couch watching TV in some sort of upstairs family room when suddenly the house was swept up in a tornado and thrown out. When the house landed, Lori and I were still sitting in the couch, clinging to it and each other for our lives. The couch slammed to the ground, falling first through the second story floor and then it fell over backward so we were facing up. The roof then fell on top of us and we used our arms and feet to brace ourselves from the section of roof. Apparently it was a good thing the roof fell on us because it turned out that all of this debris and sand fell on top of the roof and the only thing keeping us from being swallowed in it and sort of buried alive was that we had this roof shield above us. Hmmm…
Another less vivid but no less weird dream involved a guy from Cinnabon hitting on me and asking me for my address – not my phone number. So I guess my dream self is skipping phone calls and going with straight up stalkers. Though I don’t think I’m desperate for a date, I will say I could be pretty desperate for something from Cinnabon. I remember when I worked at the Drake Bookstore and Hokomoto would drive to the only mall in town that had one to bring it in and surprise me. Oh god a mochalatta chill would be heaven right now. Areyl – I’m adding that to my list of “things I miss.” Of course…that’s in addition to missing all of you. Unless Kurtenbach is reading this and then it’s in addition to missing most of you. ;) Have a great Halloween everyone.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Friday, October 30, 2009
The funeral
10/29/09
Today I attended a funeral for a 95 year old woman from Victoria whose funeral mass was held at St. George’s.
I sat in St. Francis square from 3 p.m. on, waiting to see if there would be a procession for the funeral I had been tipped about. Sure enough, at 3:40 mourners began gathering across from Tapie’s near the flower shop at the intersection where Palm St. meets the Pjazza. Shortly thereafter, the procession of priests from St. George’s came up Palm St. and stood there waiting for the arrival of the hearse. From where I was located, I could see which undertaker was in charge of the funeral and noted that he was also playing the role of pall bearer, along with the hearse driver and two other men. They hoisted the coffin onto their shoulders and followed the procession of 3 acolytes and thirteen priests down the side street to the left of Gauda. They were then followed by the mourners. Rather than following and trying to pass as a mourner, I cut back down Palm St. and up one of the side streets to the back side of St. George’s, hoping the procession would come down that side of the church rather than the far side. My gamble paid off and I beat the procession to the intersection I hoped they would cross. I wasn’t the only person standing aside to let the procession pass either, so it was not as awkward as I worried it would be to observe the group as they walked passed me.
The priests all chanted a Maltese prayer song and as the undertaker passed me with the coffin on his shoulder we gave each other solemn nods in greeting. They held the coffin up with only their shoulders, not using their hands at all, keeping them folded in front of them for the entire procession. The coffin was the work of the undertaker and was a simple varnished wood, with no real embellishments and a raised cross on the top. I have seen several of the types of coffins that are available in Gozo and though they are all handmade by the undertaker/carpenters, they can be quite elaborately carved and beautifully designed so the simplicity of this coffin’s design struck me. The procession rounded the side of the church, entering into St. George’s square and ascending the steps into the church. I hesitated only a moment before following them in and situated myself in the back to attend the funeral with several other people I would consider “non-mourners” who had been inside the church praying at the start of the mass. (I say non-mourners because they were not dressed for the funeral – those that were sported either black, gray, navy or a combination mixed with white.) For my part, because I’d decided not to try to pass as a mourner, I took the middle road, wearing black dress pants, a pale turquoise tank top, and a brown cardigan sweater. Respectful yet clearly not trying to deceive anyone into thinking I was “bereaved.” Throughout the course of the mass several tourists still managed to wander in to get a look at St. George’s as well as some other local “non-mourners” who were just there to pray their rosary and move on their way. This too made me feel less awkward about being there.
Organ music played while the priests changed their vestments from the simple black cassock covered with white to a white garment covered with a heavier purple robe. For those of you Catholics, the mass that followed was very similar to that of the Catholic mass back home, though again done all in Maltese. (And with subtle differences both from the American catholic mass and in comparison to the regular mass I attended at St. George’s last week that I’m not going to get into here.) One of the acolytes passed out the prayer cards for the deceased and I debated taking one but took my cue from the other Gozitan “non-mourners” and took one. The entire mass took about 45 minutes, which was 20 minutes longer than the “speed masses” that happen every hour on the hour. After the mass had ended, the pall bearers once again hoisted the coffin onto their shoulders and processed out, placing the coffin directly into the hearse, which was a Mercedez “Elegance.”
I couldn’t help but note that having funerals during “siesta” time worked on several levels. First of all, because they fall during siesta the church is always available (pending a wedding or another funeral) as there are no “regular” masses from 1 – 4. Second, because of siesta, most of the locals are at home eating lunch and spending time with their family so the mourners are able to bury their dead, walking through the streets in quiet procession without having to disturb the shops and shopping of the day. Third, the mass is over in enough time for the locals to begin arriving for the next mass which begins at 5, and the final burial mass is over just a touch before the sun sets and it would be too dark to see at the cemetery. It’s very well orchestrated.
This is clearly the abridged version but I could hardly leave y’all hanging on at least some of the details. You’ve all been so encouraging, supportive, and interested in this “work” that I felt I owed you at least a general description of how it went down. We are edging closer to All Saints Day and All Souls day and I’m really excited to see what the month of November brings in Gozo as far as cemeteries and commemoration are concerned considering how important the “month of the dead” is to the people here. With any luck, I may end up with enough material for a thesis after all! (Thank God!)
Today I attended a funeral for a 95 year old woman from Victoria whose funeral mass was held at St. George’s.
I sat in St. Francis square from 3 p.m. on, waiting to see if there would be a procession for the funeral I had been tipped about. Sure enough, at 3:40 mourners began gathering across from Tapie’s near the flower shop at the intersection where Palm St. meets the Pjazza. Shortly thereafter, the procession of priests from St. George’s came up Palm St. and stood there waiting for the arrival of the hearse. From where I was located, I could see which undertaker was in charge of the funeral and noted that he was also playing the role of pall bearer, along with the hearse driver and two other men. They hoisted the coffin onto their shoulders and followed the procession of 3 acolytes and thirteen priests down the side street to the left of Gauda. They were then followed by the mourners. Rather than following and trying to pass as a mourner, I cut back down Palm St. and up one of the side streets to the back side of St. George’s, hoping the procession would come down that side of the church rather than the far side. My gamble paid off and I beat the procession to the intersection I hoped they would cross. I wasn’t the only person standing aside to let the procession pass either, so it was not as awkward as I worried it would be to observe the group as they walked passed me.
The priests all chanted a Maltese prayer song and as the undertaker passed me with the coffin on his shoulder we gave each other solemn nods in greeting. They held the coffin up with only their shoulders, not using their hands at all, keeping them folded in front of them for the entire procession. The coffin was the work of the undertaker and was a simple varnished wood, with no real embellishments and a raised cross on the top. I have seen several of the types of coffins that are available in Gozo and though they are all handmade by the undertaker/carpenters, they can be quite elaborately carved and beautifully designed so the simplicity of this coffin’s design struck me. The procession rounded the side of the church, entering into St. George’s square and ascending the steps into the church. I hesitated only a moment before following them in and situated myself in the back to attend the funeral with several other people I would consider “non-mourners” who had been inside the church praying at the start of the mass. (I say non-mourners because they were not dressed for the funeral – those that were sported either black, gray, navy or a combination mixed with white.) For my part, because I’d decided not to try to pass as a mourner, I took the middle road, wearing black dress pants, a pale turquoise tank top, and a brown cardigan sweater. Respectful yet clearly not trying to deceive anyone into thinking I was “bereaved.” Throughout the course of the mass several tourists still managed to wander in to get a look at St. George’s as well as some other local “non-mourners” who were just there to pray their rosary and move on their way. This too made me feel less awkward about being there.
Organ music played while the priests changed their vestments from the simple black cassock covered with white to a white garment covered with a heavier purple robe. For those of you Catholics, the mass that followed was very similar to that of the Catholic mass back home, though again done all in Maltese. (And with subtle differences both from the American catholic mass and in comparison to the regular mass I attended at St. George’s last week that I’m not going to get into here.) One of the acolytes passed out the prayer cards for the deceased and I debated taking one but took my cue from the other Gozitan “non-mourners” and took one. The entire mass took about 45 minutes, which was 20 minutes longer than the “speed masses” that happen every hour on the hour. After the mass had ended, the pall bearers once again hoisted the coffin onto their shoulders and processed out, placing the coffin directly into the hearse, which was a Mercedez “Elegance.”
I couldn’t help but note that having funerals during “siesta” time worked on several levels. First of all, because they fall during siesta the church is always available (pending a wedding or another funeral) as there are no “regular” masses from 1 – 4. Second, because of siesta, most of the locals are at home eating lunch and spending time with their family so the mourners are able to bury their dead, walking through the streets in quiet procession without having to disturb the shops and shopping of the day. Third, the mass is over in enough time for the locals to begin arriving for the next mass which begins at 5, and the final burial mass is over just a touch before the sun sets and it would be too dark to see at the cemetery. It’s very well orchestrated.
This is clearly the abridged version but I could hardly leave y’all hanging on at least some of the details. You’ve all been so encouraging, supportive, and interested in this “work” that I felt I owed you at least a general description of how it went down. We are edging closer to All Saints Day and All Souls day and I’m really excited to see what the month of November brings in Gozo as far as cemeteries and commemoration are concerned considering how important the “month of the dead” is to the people here. With any luck, I may end up with enough material for a thesis after all! (Thank God!)
Thursday, October 29, 2009
My last visitor
My friend Becca has been here for the past three and a half days. Her arrival on Sunday afforded me the opportunity to view a different quirk of the Maltese café culture while I waited for her at the ferry terminal in Mgarr. It seems that, just as at any café, there are a few men and women who treat the waiting area of the terminal as their own personal stomping grounds. At first I thought the row of 4 men and the row of 4 women sitting there were waiting for someone to arrive via ferry but instead, they spent the better part of 2 hours chatting with each other and then going their separate ways. After Becca’s safe arrival we ventured to find her some dinner. We chose Café Jubliee first but all of the tables both inside the restaurant and in Independence Square were full, so we went to Café Antonin instead. Becca loved the house white wine and the Ravioli special they were serving. I stuck to the ravioli that is normally on the menu and loved it every bit as much as I have the last two times I’ve had it there.
Monday we ambled around Victoria, poking in the shops around St. George’s so she could get a feel for the shops and what the souvenirs were like. We also went to the malls, both Duke and Arkadia, and shopped there as well. Becca bought a bunch of cookies from one of the confectionaries where the woman gladly explained each. I guess they aren’t all “almond” flavored like I thought – some are coconut flavored, some have a fig filling…they really all still taste the same to me. Catching an afternoon bus, we spent a few hours in Xlendi. It was a gorgeous breezy and sunny day and so a snack at Churchill’s right in the bay seemed like an excellent idea. We ordered the bruschetta though and were both aghast when it came LOADED with olives, as neither of us are olive people. (I know, how dare we bother spending time in the Mediterranean?) Thankfully a scoop of gelato set the world right again. Doesn’t it always? We meandered the narrow streets behind St. George’s in the late afternoon, and Becca got to meet Anna over at the souvenir shop. We tried Café Jubliee for dinner this time, and managed to get a table before the dinner rush. That night Becca decided we should watch “Just Friends” as she hadn’t seen it before, and like Wim, she loved it.
Tuesday was a day of adventure. We took the 9am bus to San Lawrenz and from there walked down to Drewja. On the way I was treated to seeing the brand new cemetery in San Lawrenz and I look forward to heading back there to check it out at length. The walk down to Drewja wasn’t bad as the sun wasn’t yet too hot and there was a decent breeze. Plus, the view of the Mediterranean as you descend on the road is worth the walk. At the Azure window, we met a family from Australia who offered to take our photo together. The woman was Maltese but it was her first time visiting the island, having been born in Australia. Having arrived before many of the tour buses we almost felt like we had the place to ourselves besides the scuba divers. There are some small fishing boats that offer short tours of the area, taking you through this cave near the window, around to the Blue Grotto of Malta, and onto the window. Thankfully the boatman had enough life jackets for all of us because man was the sea choppy there. As we went through the cave I just kept thinking that I couldn’t believe Wim had actually swam through there last year. I would’ve been paralyzed in fright. It was dark, choppy, and you would’ve never been able to see a jellyfish coming!
After the boat ride we had lunch, and took a gamble on burgers. For my money, I think I lost. The burger came
with a mayonnaise/relish sort of topping that stuck to my ribs all day even though I scraped most of it off the burger. Ble-yuck. The best part of the morning was when we did a bit of rock climbing to scale this rock that juts out near Fungus Rock. (In the picture, fungus rock is the one out in the middle and the one we sat on is on the right.) I’d say we probably sat out there for about a half hour, again almost feeling like we owned the place. As the sun moved to the middle of the sky it definitely got hot and it was again but neither of us could bring ourselves to swim as the place was literally swarming with jellyfish. It was like a jellyfish convention! It was very refreshing to end the trip to the window with a lemon calippo after navigating back off of the rock. The bus brought us back to Victoria where we decided to have a bit of a break in adventure and a snack at Coffee Break. Here Becca got to meet Sonja and have a piece of lemon cake. I got to have a very large cappuccino and a snickers pie. We felt that after all of our walking and our bad lunch we deserved it.
Next it was off to Sannat to go to the Cliffs. Only this time, there wasn’t a bus to take us so we walked from Victoria to Sannat, which took about 40 minutes. Once there, it took another 15 – 20 to walk to the cliffs. It wasn’t as late into sunset as the last time I was there but the view was just as breathtaking. By the time we walked back to Victoria it had finally turned dark. With creaking knees and tired legs Becca stopped at Sphynx to try her first Pastizzi – she loved it. We took a bit of a rest before heading to It-Tokk for dinner and scarfing down our food. You would’ve thought we were runners on a carbo load. I woofed down a pizza and Becca inhaled her entire plate of spaghetti gozitano. I think it was well deserved.
Yesterday was a day for a more laid back adventure. Becca revisited some of the stores she wanted to pick up souvenirs at before we caught the 11am bus to Marsalforn. We walked around the bay and I was surprised to see one of the guys who sits outside the Aurora in a group of swimmers there. He saw me too and said hello, remarking on the gorgeous weather. After our walk we had lunch at one of the seaside cafés and this time I played it safe with the ham and cheese toast. Becca also got to try Paprika flavored Pringles and she agrees – they are quite yummy! We then walked to the other side of the bay where Wim and I had swam the last time I was there and here we met a local man named John who, despite sporting speedos and a snorkel seemed more keen to chat us up than to swim. We barely made it away from him in time to catch the bus. Thankfully we’re on Mediterranean time here though so everything is always late. We spent the afternoon at the Citadel, and I was grateful that I went into the Cathedral again, as they’ve changed the look of the place drastically. It used to be covered from floor to ceiling with these red curtain/wall hanging type things and now they’ve been taken down so you can see the limestone brick throughout. It changed the entire look of the place (for the better I think.) After the Citadel Becca decided to venture off on her own to find Sphynx and get one last pastizzi.
In the evening it was a debate about food – do we go somewhere we know Becca will like or try a new place. THANK GOD we decided to venture somewhere new – we went to Maji, which is described in the book as a place where “foodies would delight” and they were absolutely right. The meals aren’t “Gozitan” but rather just these phenomenal dishes highlighting local ingredients and the chef and owner are from Gozo. They said 50% of their customers are tourists and the other 50% are Maltese who come over from Malta but not really any Gozitan customers. The food was phenomenal. Becca had this pumpkin ravioli that wasn’t on the menu but was offered up when she ordered the pumpkin risotto and was told it wasn’t available. She said it was one of the top 10 meals she’s had in her life. I had the pan seared duck breast over a thai barbequed noodle. It was amazing. The food was so good we decided we had to stay for dessert so Becca had the bananas foster and I had the tiramisu – again amazing. The owner was very nice and asked us to have a drink with him and the chef after we ate as we were the only customers. He asked us some questions about where we’re from and it came out that I’m here to study funerals and he seemed very keen on talking about them so I think I’ll go back for an interview. He gave us his business card and we left with very happy tummies. Like Chris when he stayed, Becca had to take the 5am ferry and so I said goodbye to her very early this morning and then crawled back into bed for a few extra winks.
Now it's time for three solid weeks of hard work before I head to Belgium!
Monday we ambled around Victoria, poking in the shops around St. George’s so she could get a feel for the shops and what the souvenirs were like. We also went to the malls, both Duke and Arkadia, and shopped there as well. Becca bought a bunch of cookies from one of the confectionaries where the woman gladly explained each. I guess they aren’t all “almond” flavored like I thought – some are coconut flavored, some have a fig filling…they really all still taste the same to me. Catching an afternoon bus, we spent a few hours in Xlendi. It was a gorgeous breezy and sunny day and so a snack at Churchill’s right in the bay seemed like an excellent idea. We ordered the bruschetta though and were both aghast when it came LOADED with olives, as neither of us are olive people. (I know, how dare we bother spending time in the Mediterranean?) Thankfully a scoop of gelato set the world right again. Doesn’t it always? We meandered the narrow streets behind St. George’s in the late afternoon, and Becca got to meet Anna over at the souvenir shop. We tried Café Jubliee for dinner this time, and managed to get a table before the dinner rush. That night Becca decided we should watch “Just Friends” as she hadn’t seen it before, and like Wim, she loved it.
Tuesday was a day of adventure. We took the 9am bus to San Lawrenz and from there walked down to Drewja. On the way I was treated to seeing the brand new cemetery in San Lawrenz and I look forward to heading back there to check it out at length. The walk down to Drewja wasn’t bad as the sun wasn’t yet too hot and there was a decent breeze. Plus, the view of the Mediterranean as you descend on the road is worth the walk. At the Azure window, we met a family from Australia who offered to take our photo together. The woman was Maltese but it was her first time visiting the island, having been born in Australia. Having arrived before many of the tour buses we almost felt like we had the place to ourselves besides the scuba divers. There are some small fishing boats that offer short tours of the area, taking you through this cave near the window, around to the Blue Grotto of Malta, and onto the window. Thankfully the boatman had enough life jackets for all of us because man was the sea choppy there. As we went through the cave I just kept thinking that I couldn’t believe Wim had actually swam through there last year. I would’ve been paralyzed in fright. It was dark, choppy, and you would’ve never been able to see a jellyfish coming!
After the boat ride we had lunch, and took a gamble on burgers. For my money, I think I lost. The burger came
with a mayonnaise/relish sort of topping that stuck to my ribs all day even though I scraped most of it off the burger. Ble-yuck. The best part of the morning was when we did a bit of rock climbing to scale this rock that juts out near Fungus Rock. (In the picture, fungus rock is the one out in the middle and the one we sat on is on the right.) I’d say we probably sat out there for about a half hour, again almost feeling like we owned the place. As the sun moved to the middle of the sky it definitely got hot and it was again but neither of us could bring ourselves to swim as the place was literally swarming with jellyfish. It was like a jellyfish convention! It was very refreshing to end the trip to the window with a lemon calippo after navigating back off of the rock. The bus brought us back to Victoria where we decided to have a bit of a break in adventure and a snack at Coffee Break. Here Becca got to meet Sonja and have a piece of lemon cake. I got to have a very large cappuccino and a snickers pie. We felt that after all of our walking and our bad lunch we deserved it.Next it was off to Sannat to go to the Cliffs. Only this time, there wasn’t a bus to take us so we walked from Victoria to Sannat, which took about 40 minutes. Once there, it took another 15 – 20 to walk to the cliffs. It wasn’t as late into sunset as the last time I was there but the view was just as breathtaking. By the time we walked back to Victoria it had finally turned dark. With creaking knees and tired legs Becca stopped at Sphynx to try her first Pastizzi – she loved it. We took a bit of a rest before heading to It-Tokk for dinner and scarfing down our food. You would’ve thought we were runners on a carbo load. I woofed down a pizza and Becca inhaled her entire plate of spaghetti gozitano. I think it was well deserved.
Yesterday was a day for a more laid back adventure. Becca revisited some of the stores she wanted to pick up souvenirs at before we caught the 11am bus to Marsalforn. We walked around the bay and I was surprised to see one of the guys who sits outside the Aurora in a group of swimmers there. He saw me too and said hello, remarking on the gorgeous weather. After our walk we had lunch at one of the seaside cafés and this time I played it safe with the ham and cheese toast. Becca also got to try Paprika flavored Pringles and she agrees – they are quite yummy! We then walked to the other side of the bay where Wim and I had swam the last time I was there and here we met a local man named John who, despite sporting speedos and a snorkel seemed more keen to chat us up than to swim. We barely made it away from him in time to catch the bus. Thankfully we’re on Mediterranean time here though so everything is always late. We spent the afternoon at the Citadel, and I was grateful that I went into the Cathedral again, as they’ve changed the look of the place drastically. It used to be covered from floor to ceiling with these red curtain/wall hanging type things and now they’ve been taken down so you can see the limestone brick throughout. It changed the entire look of the place (for the better I think.) After the Citadel Becca decided to venture off on her own to find Sphynx and get one last pastizzi.
In the evening it was a debate about food – do we go somewhere we know Becca will like or try a new place. THANK GOD we decided to venture somewhere new – we went to Maji, which is described in the book as a place where “foodies would delight” and they were absolutely right. The meals aren’t “Gozitan” but rather just these phenomenal dishes highlighting local ingredients and the chef and owner are from Gozo. They said 50% of their customers are tourists and the other 50% are Maltese who come over from Malta but not really any Gozitan customers. The food was phenomenal. Becca had this pumpkin ravioli that wasn’t on the menu but was offered up when she ordered the pumpkin risotto and was told it wasn’t available. She said it was one of the top 10 meals she’s had in her life. I had the pan seared duck breast over a thai barbequed noodle. It was amazing. The food was so good we decided we had to stay for dessert so Becca had the bananas foster and I had the tiramisu – again amazing. The owner was very nice and asked us to have a drink with him and the chef after we ate as we were the only customers. He asked us some questions about where we’re from and it came out that I’m here to study funerals and he seemed very keen on talking about them so I think I’ll go back for an interview. He gave us his business card and we left with very happy tummies. Like Chris when he stayed, Becca had to take the 5am ferry and so I said goodbye to her very early this morning and then crawled back into bed for a few extra winks.
Now it's time for three solid weeks of hard work before I head to Belgium!
Thursday, October 22, 2009
The secret of Tapie's
So Ted FORGOT about me! Grrr. I got up early and left the apartment so he could clean it and came back to nada! I ran into him yesterday afternoon and he said “oh I forgot about you!” He apologized and said he’d do it today instead. So here I sit again, booted from my apartment so he can clean. He’d better do it this time or I’ll be shaking my fist at him for real!
I’m at the Duke because it is raining this morning and it’s one of the indoor places. Oddly, there’s a man that usually goes to Tapie’s here drinking a cuppa. I was talking to Kilena yesterday and she explained the deal with Tapie’s and why it’s more visited by males than most of the other cafes. (well, the café scene in general is “male space” but why Tapie’s is even more so.) I guess it’s one of the oldest cafes in Victoria. From her shop, you look out onto St. Francis square and a fountain/rotary/roundabout. I guess until about 20 years ago there was another block of shops and houses there where Tapie’s used to be and had been for a very long time. The government decided to tear the block down to make the square and widen the roadway and Tapie’s moved to the store it’s in now – basically in the same spot just different building. But it’s on the corner of the square in a prime location and it’s still operated by the same family that it’s always been operated by, currently being run by the three brothers of the family. She said that women never went to cafes and even today you’ll only see “one, maybe two, three is too much.” This makes sense in terms of the history of Gozo and the concept of male space. If Tapie's is one of the oldest cafe establishments in Victoria then it would follow that their crowd continues to abide by the old standards as well. It was nice to hear a local confirm my assertion that the only women that really go there are tourists.
She also gave me some sweets while I was there, which was uncanny because I had planned on stopping at the confectionary on my way home to try some. She gave me a big almond cookie, the kind that looks like it’s being held in a muffin cup (not sure how else to describe it) and two smaller cookies that she said are her favorite. Unfortunately I asked what they were and she said she usually just points to them in the case and says “give me the pastini’s” (little cookies). She then gave me another one that had pink swirled icing on it and explained that it’s a traditional Maltese cookie that goes back at least about 70 years and is called “Pasti ta la rusa” or cookies of the bride. They are a traditional wedding cookie and would’ve been given out at wedding receptions. She said back then weddings were early in the morning – maybe 5am owing to the fact that most people still needed to go and farm for the day. Ugh. So my review….all of them tasted the same. They all seemed to be almond cookies to me, just with different shapes. But very similar textures and tastes. And they aren’t really that sweet, though it’s not surprising. About the only chocolate items you find in their confectionaries are either chocolate covered donuts that look just like the ones at Dunkin’ Donuts, or maybe a snickers pie with a chocolate top. Well, I guess some have chocolate croissants as well. But really it’s just rows of pastry in various forms. I’m definitely looking forward to Belgium and indulging in Belgian chocolate! Now, that’s not to say that you can’t get chocolate here – their stores have candy bars and all sorts of standard chocolate stuff…I’m just talking about the local confections. And speaking of Maltese food, for any of you foodies that are interested, here’s a pretty decent link to some Maltese recipes….
http://home.vicnet.net.au/~mccv/food/recipes.htm
I successfully got rid of the flies in my apartment and now there are 2 buzzing around me here at the Duke. At first I started swatting at them with the abandon I do in my apartment rather than just a casual wave of my hand. And then I realized I’m in a café and people are looking at me. Oops.
I asked Kilena what a typical gift is for a confirmation present, thinking I might pick one up while I’m here. She (and Maria from the Cherished Gifts store) told me…I’m not sure yet if I’ll buy one or not and I don’t want to say here in case my cousin Stephen is reading these (though I doubt it). BUT Kilena said that nowadays people will give anything (much like in the US) and that sometimes the gifts can be pretty extravagant. She knew one man who gave his son a trip on a cruise for his confirmation! When I told her I didn’t believe her, she said she had an even better story. A friend of hers was asked to be a confirmation sponsor for her nephew and she said yes – of course. The woman’s daughter then called her a couple of months later and said, “my husband says that if you want to be the confirmation sponsor you need to give him a gift of land.” LAND! The woman couldn’t believe it – she’s got 3 children of her own – why would she give her NEPHEW some of her land! Suffice it to say, as Stephen’s confirmation sponsor I will not be getting him a cruise OR land!
I’m at the Duke because it is raining this morning and it’s one of the indoor places. Oddly, there’s a man that usually goes to Tapie’s here drinking a cuppa. I was talking to Kilena yesterday and she explained the deal with Tapie’s and why it’s more visited by males than most of the other cafes. (well, the café scene in general is “male space” but why Tapie’s is even more so.) I guess it’s one of the oldest cafes in Victoria. From her shop, you look out onto St. Francis square and a fountain/rotary/roundabout. I guess until about 20 years ago there was another block of shops and houses there where Tapie’s used to be and had been for a very long time. The government decided to tear the block down to make the square and widen the roadway and Tapie’s moved to the store it’s in now – basically in the same spot just different building. But it’s on the corner of the square in a prime location and it’s still operated by the same family that it’s always been operated by, currently being run by the three brothers of the family. She said that women never went to cafes and even today you’ll only see “one, maybe two, three is too much.” This makes sense in terms of the history of Gozo and the concept of male space. If Tapie's is one of the oldest cafe establishments in Victoria then it would follow that their crowd continues to abide by the old standards as well. It was nice to hear a local confirm my assertion that the only women that really go there are tourists.
She also gave me some sweets while I was there, which was uncanny because I had planned on stopping at the confectionary on my way home to try some. She gave me a big almond cookie, the kind that looks like it’s being held in a muffin cup (not sure how else to describe it) and two smaller cookies that she said are her favorite. Unfortunately I asked what they were and she said she usually just points to them in the case and says “give me the pastini’s” (little cookies). She then gave me another one that had pink swirled icing on it and explained that it’s a traditional Maltese cookie that goes back at least about 70 years and is called “Pasti ta la rusa” or cookies of the bride. They are a traditional wedding cookie and would’ve been given out at wedding receptions. She said back then weddings were early in the morning – maybe 5am owing to the fact that most people still needed to go and farm for the day. Ugh. So my review….all of them tasted the same. They all seemed to be almond cookies to me, just with different shapes. But very similar textures and tastes. And they aren’t really that sweet, though it’s not surprising. About the only chocolate items you find in their confectionaries are either chocolate covered donuts that look just like the ones at Dunkin’ Donuts, or maybe a snickers pie with a chocolate top. Well, I guess some have chocolate croissants as well. But really it’s just rows of pastry in various forms. I’m definitely looking forward to Belgium and indulging in Belgian chocolate! Now, that’s not to say that you can’t get chocolate here – their stores have candy bars and all sorts of standard chocolate stuff…I’m just talking about the local confections. And speaking of Maltese food, for any of you foodies that are interested, here’s a pretty decent link to some Maltese recipes….
http://home.vicnet.net.au/~mccv/food/recipes.htm
I successfully got rid of the flies in my apartment and now there are 2 buzzing around me here at the Duke. At first I started swatting at them with the abandon I do in my apartment rather than just a casual wave of my hand. And then I realized I’m in a café and people are looking at me. Oops.
I asked Kilena what a typical gift is for a confirmation present, thinking I might pick one up while I’m here. She (and Maria from the Cherished Gifts store) told me…I’m not sure yet if I’ll buy one or not and I don’t want to say here in case my cousin Stephen is reading these (though I doubt it). BUT Kilena said that nowadays people will give anything (much like in the US) and that sometimes the gifts can be pretty extravagant. She knew one man who gave his son a trip on a cruise for his confirmation! When I told her I didn’t believe her, she said she had an even better story. A friend of hers was asked to be a confirmation sponsor for her nephew and she said yes – of course. The woman’s daughter then called her a couple of months later and said, “my husband says that if you want to be the confirmation sponsor you need to give him a gift of land.” LAND! The woman couldn’t believe it – she’s got 3 children of her own – why would she give her NEPHEW some of her land! Suffice it to say, as Stephen’s confirmation sponsor I will not be getting him a cruise OR land!
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
New contact and an old friend
10/20/09
At 5:45 this morning the bells of St. George went off like usual. I’ve started to sleep through it most of the time but last night it woke me. I hadn’t gone to sleep easily and slept pretty light the whole night. When they rang at quarter to six, I checked the time on my phone and when the light from the screen faded I realized something was different. It was pitch dark in the room. The kind of dark where you can’t see your hand in front of your face. Usually the streetlights from the square are strong enough that the room never achieves total darkness. I used the phone as a flashlight and walked to the balcony. Looking out I realized that none of the electricity was working in the square, with the only light coming from some candles that the owner of Grapes Wine Bar put out on their own balcony. Looking up you could see the stars – something you would never be able to see in a city like Victoria and I realized the whole city might be without power. Sure enough, once I made this realization it occurred to me that there was no “electrical buzz” of the refrigerator, and the power light for the water heater wasn’t on. This caused me to lay awake for another half hour, worrying about when the power would come back, and if I could flush the toilet or not.
I continued to sleep terribly, owing largely to the worry. Eventually the worry gave way to more light sleep and instead I was treated to being woken by the noise of Ted going up and down the stairs to check the electricity once it DID come back on. Then I was serenaded by the sound of 2 new tenants going up and down the stairs outside my door with their bags, switching the hall lights on and off and talking as they went. I had some bad dreams as well, one that involved a murder of a young girl who wasn’t discovered right away because a favorite doll was mistaken as being the girl. I remember the doll was named “Becky Damnear” because the mom thought the doll looked “damn near” like her daughter. Bizarre.
In any case, I ran into Ted in the morning at the Duke and inquired about the new British tenants. He said there weren’t any new tenants and the fellow who is renting upstairs now is a Maltese man. Uh oh. I think I inadvertently busted this guy’s sub-lease scheme. Whoops. He said he’d have to “check into it” later.
I finally bumped into Joe, the owner of the Liquer Shop below me. Well when I say “bumped” what I really mean is that he almost ran me over with the shop van. So I popped over and said “Hey! You almost ran me over!” At first he just looked at me like “I know her…I know her…I know her…” so I said “I’m Jessica, that crazy girl that was bothering you last summer…” and before I could finish the sentence he said “for the funerals!” We shook hands and he said he looked forward to seeing me around.
This afternoon I met the woman who owns “Cherished Memories” gift shop in the square. Her name is Maria (though not to be confused with the Maria I met yesterday) and we talked for about 2 hours. She owns 3 shops, including the Gozo Lace store at the Citadel (I guess that will only mean something to Wim.) She comes from a family of 9 siblings and has 3 children of her own. Next month she and her husband will celebrate their 28th anniversary together. She was able to explain a few of the bells to me. At 5pm the bells ring to let people know that the evening masses are starting. At 6pm the bells ring to let people know it’s supper time – an old custom from when everyone was in the fields and didn’t have watches. At 6:30 there is a special bell that rings that’s supposed to indicate a time everyone should pray for a blessing from God. At 8pm the bells ring as a last reminder for prayer before bed time. Clearly a lingering old tradition since most families around here don’t even eat dinner until 8 or 9 at night. Interesting. She also confirmed that she’d heard the weather was supposed to get warmer again – a sort of “Indian Summer” here, though they call it a “St. Martin’s Summer.” She said she too heard it’s going to get back up to 80. Whoo hoo! Far more exciting news was that she invited me to go for a drink sometime! Double whoo hoo! Maria and I exchanged cards and she was sure to give me her cell number, explaining that she normally doesn’t work in the shop, but pays a “shopgirl” to do it instead so I can’t always find her there. But she said I could come to the shop and leave her messages if I wanted to and she said if there’s anything I need while I’m here she’d be more than happy to help. Are we starting to see a trend here?
The funniest part about talking with her was that in the course of conversation, Sonja, the really nice waitress from Coffee Break, came in with her 16 year old daughter. She spoke with Maria in Maltese for a minute and then introduced herself to me and asked how Maria and I knew each other, convinced we must be friends because we’d been talking so comfortably. Maria explained that we’d just met and I confessed to Sonja that I actually recognized her from Coffee Break and told her that I’d met her last year. Maria and I had JUST been talking about how everyone knows everyone in Gozo so this got a great laugh from her. When I explained to Sonja the circumstances of how we met last summer, she gave me this look of recognition and then put up a finger like “wait a moment.” She then exited the store and came back in as if she were starting the whole encounter over again. She said hello to Maria and then looked at me like she was surprised to see me. She opened her arms wide and said, “Jessica! So nice to see you again my old friend! How have you been this past year?” She then hugged me, embracing me tightly twice. I played along and said how great it was to see her again too and she hugged me a third time! Maria could hardly stand for laughing and I think Sonja’s daughter probably thought we were all nuts. (But then again she’s 16 – I’m sure I recall thinking anyone over the age of 30 was nuts when I was her age.)
I’m starting to understand why so many expats decide to retire here. It’s a very friendly community. In fact, she said something about that too – about how some expats come here when they are over 60 and stay for maybe 5 years and then think, “maybe I should go home. Otherwise what will happen to me if I die? There will be no one to take care of me.” Maria told one woman that’s a ridiculous thought. She said, “you live here five years. If you don’t go see your neighbor or your neighbor don’t see you for maybe 2 days, don’t you think your neighbor would check?” She said everyone looks out for everyone else here, even if you’re not family. And everyone deserves to be buried right so they would “make best” they could. I’ve come across this several times, in interviews with various people ranging from the undertakers to the general public – people talk about “making best” and giving it your all. They talk about sympathy, courage, worth and “deserving” and say that everyone here deserves a funeral – and not just a low rate funeral but something you can consider the “best” you could do for them.
In Maria’s conversation this fit in nicely with the concepts of family and support she was discussing and how this is why you won’t see poverty in Malta, because everyone takes care of each other. She also talked about how parliament doesn’t allow divorce here, and that if they did it would ruin the fabric of the community because so much of it rests on the family structure and how different it works in Gozo versus Malta. This was the second time I’d heard that argument about divorce as well – the first in conversation with Lino and Alfred. Lino agrees with Maria though Alfred, being a family lawyer and divorced himself, disagrees. (He got divorced in Michigan where his ex-wife lives.) One funny comment she made reminded me of the scene in “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” when the mom says “the man may be the head of the house, but the woman, she is the neck. And she can turn the head anyway she wants.” Maria was talking about women who are in, what they would consider, bad marriages. She said “so your husband says he won’t give you money? Pfft. Then don’t make him dinner. I told my husband that if he ever did something like that to me, only gave me a 10 or 20 lb note and told me to make it last for a week, I would take that money and flush it down the toilet. Now there’s none for you and none for me.” Ah – the secrets to 28 years of married bliss!
When I headed back to the apartment tonight I ended up running into the British couple as they were coming out. Philip and Wendy. Sure enough – they said they are in town for a couple of days and renting the place from someone who has a longer let and is letting them stay there. They said they just met Ted and that he was very nice. I wondered if he was fuming pissed at the guy for sub-leasing the place or if he lets it slide because the guy is a guy. I vaguely remember hearing that the guy has it leased until January. I’ll have to keep tabs on what sorts come and go. Not because I want to rat this guy out to Ted, but more for my own intrigue. Especially if Ted was so down on that woman who supposedly brought back men from Sicily all the time. What’s worse? A woman who brings home random guys but pays her rent and takes care of the place OR an absentee renter who is subleasing the apartment to tourists right under your nose? I ask you. Well – I’m not really asking. I know the answer.
Ted’s coming at 10am to clean the apartment tomorrow – another fortnight has passed! Crazy.
At 5:45 this morning the bells of St. George went off like usual. I’ve started to sleep through it most of the time but last night it woke me. I hadn’t gone to sleep easily and slept pretty light the whole night. When they rang at quarter to six, I checked the time on my phone and when the light from the screen faded I realized something was different. It was pitch dark in the room. The kind of dark where you can’t see your hand in front of your face. Usually the streetlights from the square are strong enough that the room never achieves total darkness. I used the phone as a flashlight and walked to the balcony. Looking out I realized that none of the electricity was working in the square, with the only light coming from some candles that the owner of Grapes Wine Bar put out on their own balcony. Looking up you could see the stars – something you would never be able to see in a city like Victoria and I realized the whole city might be without power. Sure enough, once I made this realization it occurred to me that there was no “electrical buzz” of the refrigerator, and the power light for the water heater wasn’t on. This caused me to lay awake for another half hour, worrying about when the power would come back, and if I could flush the toilet or not.
I continued to sleep terribly, owing largely to the worry. Eventually the worry gave way to more light sleep and instead I was treated to being woken by the noise of Ted going up and down the stairs to check the electricity once it DID come back on. Then I was serenaded by the sound of 2 new tenants going up and down the stairs outside my door with their bags, switching the hall lights on and off and talking as they went. I had some bad dreams as well, one that involved a murder of a young girl who wasn’t discovered right away because a favorite doll was mistaken as being the girl. I remember the doll was named “Becky Damnear” because the mom thought the doll looked “damn near” like her daughter. Bizarre.
In any case, I ran into Ted in the morning at the Duke and inquired about the new British tenants. He said there weren’t any new tenants and the fellow who is renting upstairs now is a Maltese man. Uh oh. I think I inadvertently busted this guy’s sub-lease scheme. Whoops. He said he’d have to “check into it” later.
I finally bumped into Joe, the owner of the Liquer Shop below me. Well when I say “bumped” what I really mean is that he almost ran me over with the shop van. So I popped over and said “Hey! You almost ran me over!” At first he just looked at me like “I know her…I know her…I know her…” so I said “I’m Jessica, that crazy girl that was bothering you last summer…” and before I could finish the sentence he said “for the funerals!” We shook hands and he said he looked forward to seeing me around.
This afternoon I met the woman who owns “Cherished Memories” gift shop in the square. Her name is Maria (though not to be confused with the Maria I met yesterday) and we talked for about 2 hours. She owns 3 shops, including the Gozo Lace store at the Citadel (I guess that will only mean something to Wim.) She comes from a family of 9 siblings and has 3 children of her own. Next month she and her husband will celebrate their 28th anniversary together. She was able to explain a few of the bells to me. At 5pm the bells ring to let people know that the evening masses are starting. At 6pm the bells ring to let people know it’s supper time – an old custom from when everyone was in the fields and didn’t have watches. At 6:30 there is a special bell that rings that’s supposed to indicate a time everyone should pray for a blessing from God. At 8pm the bells ring as a last reminder for prayer before bed time. Clearly a lingering old tradition since most families around here don’t even eat dinner until 8 or 9 at night. Interesting. She also confirmed that she’d heard the weather was supposed to get warmer again – a sort of “Indian Summer” here, though they call it a “St. Martin’s Summer.” She said she too heard it’s going to get back up to 80. Whoo hoo! Far more exciting news was that she invited me to go for a drink sometime! Double whoo hoo! Maria and I exchanged cards and she was sure to give me her cell number, explaining that she normally doesn’t work in the shop, but pays a “shopgirl” to do it instead so I can’t always find her there. But she said I could come to the shop and leave her messages if I wanted to and she said if there’s anything I need while I’m here she’d be more than happy to help. Are we starting to see a trend here?
The funniest part about talking with her was that in the course of conversation, Sonja, the really nice waitress from Coffee Break, came in with her 16 year old daughter. She spoke with Maria in Maltese for a minute and then introduced herself to me and asked how Maria and I knew each other, convinced we must be friends because we’d been talking so comfortably. Maria explained that we’d just met and I confessed to Sonja that I actually recognized her from Coffee Break and told her that I’d met her last year. Maria and I had JUST been talking about how everyone knows everyone in Gozo so this got a great laugh from her. When I explained to Sonja the circumstances of how we met last summer, she gave me this look of recognition and then put up a finger like “wait a moment.” She then exited the store and came back in as if she were starting the whole encounter over again. She said hello to Maria and then looked at me like she was surprised to see me. She opened her arms wide and said, “Jessica! So nice to see you again my old friend! How have you been this past year?” She then hugged me, embracing me tightly twice. I played along and said how great it was to see her again too and she hugged me a third time! Maria could hardly stand for laughing and I think Sonja’s daughter probably thought we were all nuts. (But then again she’s 16 – I’m sure I recall thinking anyone over the age of 30 was nuts when I was her age.)
I’m starting to understand why so many expats decide to retire here. It’s a very friendly community. In fact, she said something about that too – about how some expats come here when they are over 60 and stay for maybe 5 years and then think, “maybe I should go home. Otherwise what will happen to me if I die? There will be no one to take care of me.” Maria told one woman that’s a ridiculous thought. She said, “you live here five years. If you don’t go see your neighbor or your neighbor don’t see you for maybe 2 days, don’t you think your neighbor would check?” She said everyone looks out for everyone else here, even if you’re not family. And everyone deserves to be buried right so they would “make best” they could. I’ve come across this several times, in interviews with various people ranging from the undertakers to the general public – people talk about “making best” and giving it your all. They talk about sympathy, courage, worth and “deserving” and say that everyone here deserves a funeral – and not just a low rate funeral but something you can consider the “best” you could do for them.
In Maria’s conversation this fit in nicely with the concepts of family and support she was discussing and how this is why you won’t see poverty in Malta, because everyone takes care of each other. She also talked about how parliament doesn’t allow divorce here, and that if they did it would ruin the fabric of the community because so much of it rests on the family structure and how different it works in Gozo versus Malta. This was the second time I’d heard that argument about divorce as well – the first in conversation with Lino and Alfred. Lino agrees with Maria though Alfred, being a family lawyer and divorced himself, disagrees. (He got divorced in Michigan where his ex-wife lives.) One funny comment she made reminded me of the scene in “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” when the mom says “the man may be the head of the house, but the woman, she is the neck. And she can turn the head anyway she wants.” Maria was talking about women who are in, what they would consider, bad marriages. She said “so your husband says he won’t give you money? Pfft. Then don’t make him dinner. I told my husband that if he ever did something like that to me, only gave me a 10 or 20 lb note and told me to make it last for a week, I would take that money and flush it down the toilet. Now there’s none for you and none for me.” Ah – the secrets to 28 years of married bliss!
When I headed back to the apartment tonight I ended up running into the British couple as they were coming out. Philip and Wendy. Sure enough – they said they are in town for a couple of days and renting the place from someone who has a longer let and is letting them stay there. They said they just met Ted and that he was very nice. I wondered if he was fuming pissed at the guy for sub-leasing the place or if he lets it slide because the guy is a guy. I vaguely remember hearing that the guy has it leased until January. I’ll have to keep tabs on what sorts come and go. Not because I want to rat this guy out to Ted, but more for my own intrigue. Especially if Ted was so down on that woman who supposedly brought back men from Sicily all the time. What’s worse? A woman who brings home random guys but pays her rent and takes care of the place OR an absentee renter who is subleasing the apartment to tourists right under your nose? I ask you. Well – I’m not really asking. I know the answer.
Ted’s coming at 10am to clean the apartment tomorrow – another fortnight has passed! Crazy.
Monday, October 19, 2009
"High Tea" = BINGO...who knew?
10/19/09
Today I located the third and final flower shop in Gozo. It’s not terribly far from the other two, on the way to Kercem. As per my usual experience, this place wasn’t open either. And though it said to inquire at the store around the corner if they were closed, there was no such store. Grrr. So I’ll be going back again another day.
More importantly friends, today I penetrated the male-est of male spaces – the Aurora Theatre (The Band Club associated with the Cathedral). I’m sure I probably said this about Tapie’s as well but in the case of Tapie’s it’s a very male “café” – Band Clubs are a completely different animal altogether. Every day I walk past it and there they sit, like sentinels guarding the place. They advertise constant football programming and you rarely see women on the steps or inside as you walk past – except, again, for maybe the stray tourist here or there that wanders in. Or, if there’s a special event, like the Opera or the club night they have during Festa. Because I know the club is open to the public for food and drink, I plunged my way inside, remembering my pal Sue’s mantra “my money is just as good as anyone else’s!” I ordered an Iced Tea Peach and it was given to me in a can. This was telling because anytime you order a drink here, whether it’s served in a can or a bottle they give you a glass to go with it. Unless you are taking it to go, and if they aren’t sure, then they ask you if you want one. Clearly the guy behind the counter didn’t think I’d be staying.
As I exited, I interrupted the three sentinels, excusing myself as I did so, and decided to break the ice by inquiring after the signs for “High Tea” that I’ve seen around. They explained that it’s BINGO and that there is a High Tea that takes place at night or alternatively, there’s a “Morning Coffee” that is also a BINGO session but takes place in the morning. They inquired after my accent and the next thing you know, I’m standing there with them for a good half hour. One of them, Paul, explained they were all members of the band club. Though I heard him quite well I pretended I misheard and said “men’s club?” They laughed and Paul said, “no no no BAND club. Women are welcome. We have wives and daughters and mothers and they all come here to play. More at night though for cards and things.” One of the other guys laughingly said, “Yes, they come to play but not to play anything with sex!” Man, talk about an island full of D.O.M.’s!!!
Eventually the subject of the opera that the theatre hosted last weekend (Aida) came up and oddly at that very moment a woman who was in the opera as part of the choir approached and started talking with one of the men. By the time I left, I’d been introduced to her, and she explained that one of her sons is a bass singer with the opera company and another is the conductor. She used to sing soprano solos herself, and told me that right now they are all preparing for the Christmas concert. (Donna – this reminded me of you!) She was walking back home so I offered to walk back part way with her. Her name is Mary and she was very keen to know my name, including my surname and how to spell it. On our way up the street, we ran into Alfred (the lawyer I met last week) and he hailed us both, making sure to tell me that Mary is the prettiest soprano in Gozo. I have a feeling that Alfred says something like this to every woman on the island, as I recall him saying something similar to the waitress at Gangus last week.
It’s been cool here the last couple of days. I’ve even worn a light sweater in the daytime. But I talked to the French lady who owns Organika today (the store below me) and she said tomorrow it’s supposed to get up to 27 (that’s 80 F). I enjoyed the cool day today. With the sun shining it reminded me of those bright autumn days back home that are warmer than you expect them to be. The kind where you leave the house with a jacket but are thankful you know how to layer because you end up peeling down to a T-Shirt whenever you’re standing in the sun. It reminded me of the last time I went to the Cedarburg Wine and Harvest Festival and I realized by now that’s over with, as is (I am sure) the Bay View Bash and some of the other fun street fairs I like to go to at home. And it’s less than 2 weeks until Halloween…crazy. Today is officially my halfway mark. I can’t believe how fast it’s going.
Today I located the third and final flower shop in Gozo. It’s not terribly far from the other two, on the way to Kercem. As per my usual experience, this place wasn’t open either. And though it said to inquire at the store around the corner if they were closed, there was no such store. Grrr. So I’ll be going back again another day.
More importantly friends, today I penetrated the male-est of male spaces – the Aurora Theatre (The Band Club associated with the Cathedral). I’m sure I probably said this about Tapie’s as well but in the case of Tapie’s it’s a very male “café” – Band Clubs are a completely different animal altogether. Every day I walk past it and there they sit, like sentinels guarding the place. They advertise constant football programming and you rarely see women on the steps or inside as you walk past – except, again, for maybe the stray tourist here or there that wanders in. Or, if there’s a special event, like the Opera or the club night they have during Festa. Because I know the club is open to the public for food and drink, I plunged my way inside, remembering my pal Sue’s mantra “my money is just as good as anyone else’s!” I ordered an Iced Tea Peach and it was given to me in a can. This was telling because anytime you order a drink here, whether it’s served in a can or a bottle they give you a glass to go with it. Unless you are taking it to go, and if they aren’t sure, then they ask you if you want one. Clearly the guy behind the counter didn’t think I’d be staying.
As I exited, I interrupted the three sentinels, excusing myself as I did so, and decided to break the ice by inquiring after the signs for “High Tea” that I’ve seen around. They explained that it’s BINGO and that there is a High Tea that takes place at night or alternatively, there’s a “Morning Coffee” that is also a BINGO session but takes place in the morning. They inquired after my accent and the next thing you know, I’m standing there with them for a good half hour. One of them, Paul, explained they were all members of the band club. Though I heard him quite well I pretended I misheard and said “men’s club?” They laughed and Paul said, “no no no BAND club. Women are welcome. We have wives and daughters and mothers and they all come here to play. More at night though for cards and things.” One of the other guys laughingly said, “Yes, they come to play but not to play anything with sex!” Man, talk about an island full of D.O.M.’s!!!
Eventually the subject of the opera that the theatre hosted last weekend (Aida) came up and oddly at that very moment a woman who was in the opera as part of the choir approached and started talking with one of the men. By the time I left, I’d been introduced to her, and she explained that one of her sons is a bass singer with the opera company and another is the conductor. She used to sing soprano solos herself, and told me that right now they are all preparing for the Christmas concert. (Donna – this reminded me of you!) She was walking back home so I offered to walk back part way with her. Her name is Mary and she was very keen to know my name, including my surname and how to spell it. On our way up the street, we ran into Alfred (the lawyer I met last week) and he hailed us both, making sure to tell me that Mary is the prettiest soprano in Gozo. I have a feeling that Alfred says something like this to every woman on the island, as I recall him saying something similar to the waitress at Gangus last week.
It’s been cool here the last couple of days. I’ve even worn a light sweater in the daytime. But I talked to the French lady who owns Organika today (the store below me) and she said tomorrow it’s supposed to get up to 27 (that’s 80 F). I enjoyed the cool day today. With the sun shining it reminded me of those bright autumn days back home that are warmer than you expect them to be. The kind where you leave the house with a jacket but are thankful you know how to layer because you end up peeling down to a T-Shirt whenever you’re standing in the sun. It reminded me of the last time I went to the Cedarburg Wine and Harvest Festival and I realized by now that’s over with, as is (I am sure) the Bay View Bash and some of the other fun street fairs I like to go to at home. And it’s less than 2 weeks until Halloween…crazy. Today is officially my halfway mark. I can’t believe how fast it’s going.
Attack flies and another wedding
10/18/09
I’ve killed 9 flies today. Nine. I realized yesterday that there were more than a couple in the apartment but couldn’t be sure exactly how many. Last night I tried the “swat” method, going after them with an improvised fly swatter. I got one but no real luck after that. Today I employed a new tactic. I’ve been able to sort of catch them under the drapes or the lace curtain on the French door so I crush them against the glass once I get them there. I killed three and thought that was it but nope…there were more. I’m not exactly sure where they all came from. I mean, I realize I had the doors open for a spell all week but surely 10+ flies wouldn’t really wander into my little studio apartment and want to stay? I’m starting to think there might be another way they are getting in, like a hole in the limestone or under the doors or something. Even after killing 10 of them I still count another three buzzing around here. Now that I’ve got a system worked out, I’m sure I’ll get them too. It’s only a matter of time. In the meantime, I’m going to keep the door to the balcony closed and see how many more appear. Thankfully the weather is cooling anyway so I’m not missing anything, really, in terms of enjoying the balcony for its own sake. Plus, I’ve sat out there just about every day that I’ve been here. I think forgoing a day for this experiment won’t kill me. And it may just aid in my fly attack. (Becca, if you’re reading this, I promise to be fly-free by the time you arrive next week!)
You can’t imagine how creeped out I was to go to bed last night, knowing there were a few of them buzzing around and wondering if they were crawling on me in my sleep. I slept with the sheet over my head, something I would never do normally because it makes me feel like I’m suffocating. I must say, I’m not normally an “ew, bugs!” person but something about the thought of them all descending on me in my sleep created a paranoia and now I won’t rest until they are gone. I think I’ve been watching the X-Files too much. Only 2 discs left in Season 4.
Yesterday I saw another wedding in St. George’s Square. This time the bride chose not to use the red carpet, though she did arrive in the ever popular old white pimped out Ford. Francis, the cab driver who took my friend Chris back to the airport, was at the wheel. The groom and his family stood outside of the church smoking and waiting for her arrival. The woman who gives out the souvenirs was dropped off by a rental Benz 220 and was wearing a dress of pearly purple taffeta. She was followed by a 350 carrying the two bridesmaids in their satin gowns of deep red, the two miniature brides in their white dresses, and (possibly) the brides mother. When the bridal car got close Francis beeped to let them know they were just around the bend and the groom retreated inside. Francis let out the bride and her father and the whole party assembled on the church steps to process in.
There were these 2 children playing on the steps that were annoying the heck out of the two videographers and their parents were nowhere in sight. They were clearly enjoying their game of make believe but it did put a blight on the picture seeing all of those people dressed in their wedding finery and having these 2 kids in every shot in their playground wear. The camera guys kept trying to shoo them away but to no avail and in the end, the kids actually retreated inside of the church.
The drivers of the rental cars stayed outside, having a drink at the café across the way. Francis went inside though, possibly to monitor the progress of the wedding and determine when he would be needed again. While he was inside a couple of tourists happened upon the square and decided to pose with the Ford for some photos. The woman even leaned on the car. There was something almost sacrilegious about the invasion. Prior to their arrival, those in the square who weren’t invited to the wedding were calmly and respectfully standing off to the perimeter of the square, watching the event with great interest and excitement. There were even two locals who climbed to the balcony directly across from the church for a better view. I think they were mother and daughter and both seemed to be anxiously awaiting a glimpse of the bride, with their excitement building as the car approached. After the bride entered the church, they descended and crept slowly through the square and up to the door of the church to cautiously glimpse the happy moment inside without intruding. A few others did as well, straying from the periphery, looking into the church, pointing, remarking to their companions and leaving. But this tourist couple, the bold way they leaned on the pristine white car and posed for photos didn’t sit right with me and I half wished Francis would exit the church just then and ask them to leave. I guess after 6 weeks here, I feel a bit territorial myself.
Tonight there is a baptism, though the woman who carried the baby in looked as if she were dressed up as the mother of the bride. As per the standard for babies and cars in Gozo, she carried the baby in her arms though at least she was in the backseat. I couldn’t help but think it was an odd juxtaposition: you’re bringing a baby to church for a blessing as they start the beginning of their life in the church but you’re going to get to the blessing in a deathtrap of a vehicle.
I’ve killed 9 flies today. Nine. I realized yesterday that there were more than a couple in the apartment but couldn’t be sure exactly how many. Last night I tried the “swat” method, going after them with an improvised fly swatter. I got one but no real luck after that. Today I employed a new tactic. I’ve been able to sort of catch them under the drapes or the lace curtain on the French door so I crush them against the glass once I get them there. I killed three and thought that was it but nope…there were more. I’m not exactly sure where they all came from. I mean, I realize I had the doors open for a spell all week but surely 10+ flies wouldn’t really wander into my little studio apartment and want to stay? I’m starting to think there might be another way they are getting in, like a hole in the limestone or under the doors or something. Even after killing 10 of them I still count another three buzzing around here. Now that I’ve got a system worked out, I’m sure I’ll get them too. It’s only a matter of time. In the meantime, I’m going to keep the door to the balcony closed and see how many more appear. Thankfully the weather is cooling anyway so I’m not missing anything, really, in terms of enjoying the balcony for its own sake. Plus, I’ve sat out there just about every day that I’ve been here. I think forgoing a day for this experiment won’t kill me. And it may just aid in my fly attack. (Becca, if you’re reading this, I promise to be fly-free by the time you arrive next week!)
You can’t imagine how creeped out I was to go to bed last night, knowing there were a few of them buzzing around and wondering if they were crawling on me in my sleep. I slept with the sheet over my head, something I would never do normally because it makes me feel like I’m suffocating. I must say, I’m not normally an “ew, bugs!” person but something about the thought of them all descending on me in my sleep created a paranoia and now I won’t rest until they are gone. I think I’ve been watching the X-Files too much. Only 2 discs left in Season 4.
Yesterday I saw another wedding in St. George’s Square. This time the bride chose not to use the red carpet, though she did arrive in the ever popular old white pimped out Ford. Francis, the cab driver who took my friend Chris back to the airport, was at the wheel. The groom and his family stood outside of the church smoking and waiting for her arrival. The woman who gives out the souvenirs was dropped off by a rental Benz 220 and was wearing a dress of pearly purple taffeta. She was followed by a 350 carrying the two bridesmaids in their satin gowns of deep red, the two miniature brides in their white dresses, and (possibly) the brides mother. When the bridal car got close Francis beeped to let them know they were just around the bend and the groom retreated inside. Francis let out the bride and her father and the whole party assembled on the church steps to process in.
There were these 2 children playing on the steps that were annoying the heck out of the two videographers and their parents were nowhere in sight. They were clearly enjoying their game of make believe but it did put a blight on the picture seeing all of those people dressed in their wedding finery and having these 2 kids in every shot in their playground wear. The camera guys kept trying to shoo them away but to no avail and in the end, the kids actually retreated inside of the church.
The drivers of the rental cars stayed outside, having a drink at the café across the way. Francis went inside though, possibly to monitor the progress of the wedding and determine when he would be needed again. While he was inside a couple of tourists happened upon the square and decided to pose with the Ford for some photos. The woman even leaned on the car. There was something almost sacrilegious about the invasion. Prior to their arrival, those in the square who weren’t invited to the wedding were calmly and respectfully standing off to the perimeter of the square, watching the event with great interest and excitement. There were even two locals who climbed to the balcony directly across from the church for a better view. I think they were mother and daughter and both seemed to be anxiously awaiting a glimpse of the bride, with their excitement building as the car approached. After the bride entered the church, they descended and crept slowly through the square and up to the door of the church to cautiously glimpse the happy moment inside without intruding. A few others did as well, straying from the periphery, looking into the church, pointing, remarking to their companions and leaving. But this tourist couple, the bold way they leaned on the pristine white car and posed for photos didn’t sit right with me and I half wished Francis would exit the church just then and ask them to leave. I guess after 6 weeks here, I feel a bit territorial myself.
Tonight there is a baptism, though the woman who carried the baby in looked as if she were dressed up as the mother of the bride. As per the standard for babies and cars in Gozo, she carried the baby in her arms though at least she was in the backseat. I couldn’t help but think it was an odd juxtaposition: you’re bringing a baby to church for a blessing as they start the beginning of their life in the church but you’re going to get to the blessing in a deathtrap of a vehicle.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Florists
Yesterday and today I circled back to the two different florists I missed the other day. There are only 3 in Victoria and maybe 10 on the island total. According to these 2 places, the "popular" flowers to use for funerals in Malta are lilies, roses, chrysanthemums and carnations and they get most of their stock imported from Holland. Average cost is from 15 - 25 Euro.
It continues to amaze me how the locals are really not at all phased when I say I'm interested in funerals. They just roll with it. They seem intrigued but happy to help. Hopefully this will stay true as my time here progresses. Monday marks the 6 week mark which puts me at halfway done. I can't believe how fast the time is going here.
Today I heard those bells again - the supposedly "mournful" ones. I was going to head to the public registry office to look up some historic documentation but decided I'd better try, once again, to see whats up. This time I sat my dupa in the church from 4pm onward and right through the 5pm mass. I know I mentioned that they have mass all of the time at St. George's but I've got to spell it out. Weekdays they have mass at 5am, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, noon, 5pm, 6, and 7. Seriously. That's a whole lot of Jesus. I sat there through the mass so I could begin to build a base of comparison between funerals vs. regular mass. They did it speed style, busting out a 25 minute service. It was all in Maltese as well. Interesting that I could follow along because the layout is the same as any ol' Catholic mass yet at the same time I didn't understand a word they were saying. The church is gorgeous though and I should really take some photos of the inside. It's got the kind of decorations that are so elaborate and so painstakingly done that you could probably spend your whole life looking up at them and not catch everything.
Better shove off and figure what I'm going to do with myself this fine Friday night. Later.
It continues to amaze me how the locals are really not at all phased when I say I'm interested in funerals. They just roll with it. They seem intrigued but happy to help. Hopefully this will stay true as my time here progresses. Monday marks the 6 week mark which puts me at halfway done. I can't believe how fast the time is going here.
Today I heard those bells again - the supposedly "mournful" ones. I was going to head to the public registry office to look up some historic documentation but decided I'd better try, once again, to see whats up. This time I sat my dupa in the church from 4pm onward and right through the 5pm mass. I know I mentioned that they have mass all of the time at St. George's but I've got to spell it out. Weekdays they have mass at 5am, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, noon, 5pm, 6, and 7. Seriously. That's a whole lot of Jesus. I sat there through the mass so I could begin to build a base of comparison between funerals vs. regular mass. They did it speed style, busting out a 25 minute service. It was all in Maltese as well. Interesting that I could follow along because the layout is the same as any ol' Catholic mass yet at the same time I didn't understand a word they were saying. The church is gorgeous though and I should really take some photos of the inside. It's got the kind of decorations that are so elaborate and so painstakingly done that you could probably spend your whole life looking up at them and not catch everything.
Better shove off and figure what I'm going to do with myself this fine Friday night. Later.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Now this is my kind of Anthropology
10/13 and 10/14/09
On Tuesday I was surprised to return home from the post office to find flowers and a bottle of wine delivered to my apartment from a friend back home. Gorgeous peach gerbera daisies, yellow carnations, and these big red glossy leaves that look like they have baby corn stalks poking out of them. Clearly I’m no florist. But they really liven the place up and it made me smile all day having a bit of a connection to home reach all the way to me here.
I ran into Ted, my apt owner, taking his grandkids for a walk. I decided to spring the news on him that I’m having another visitor in two weeks. So as not to risk being labeled a brazen American hussy I made sure he knew it was a female friend. He seemed okay with the idea and told me to call him if I need anything before she arrives.
I tracked down two of the local flower shops in town because I wanted to ask them about their funeral flower selections. Both shops were very busy with customers as they are also garden centers so I decided to come back at a better time when they might be more willing to sit for an interview. On my way back through St. George’s Square I finally ran into Paulu, one of the men I met last year when I was here. He doesn’t speak English but was very friendly and interested in the students here last summer. He also had given me a few funeral prayer card samples the last time I was here. I sent him and Henry a Christmas card this past December and told them of my plans to return. I also sent them copies of some photos as well. I’ve been here five weeks now and had yet to see Paulu so I was a bit surprised to finally almost literally bump into him as he was coming out of Gangus café. He immediately recognized me and gave me a big smile. I tried to ask him if he got my card with the picture by pretending to take a photo and he said Yes. He then led me into Gangus and had the owner translate for him so he could ask how long I was in town for and tell me that if I came at 11am the next day he’d bring me a bunch of prayer cards he’d saved for me.
I also spent two hours talking with the souvenir shop owner Tuesday night about a number of things ranging from the cost of electricity in Malta, to car insurance, home buyers, and her laundry business. While we were talking I saw a local man walked past wearing an old I.O.U. sweatshirt. I haven’t seen one of those since gosh 1995? We also saw a man walk through the street twice with an old boombox (I’m calling it that because it was straight up 80’s) blaring Elvis. I guess the freaks come out at night – even in Malta.
Today (Wednesday) I went to Gangus at 11 as Paulu and I discussed but he was not actually in the café, rather he was having a beer with another man under one of Gangus’ umbrellas in Independence Square. When I approached, the other man introduced himself as Lino (Lee-no) and asked if I would join them for a drink. Lino, it turned out, is a retired member of Maltese parliament, having worked there for twelve years. We were soon joined by Alfred, who is a lawyer and a law professor over at the University of Malta specializing in both family law and human rights law. If I had to guess I would say he’s probably in his mid-forties. Poor Paulu – once the two men got talking (and in English for my benefit) he was lost. He did take me over to his old shop (he used to be a butcher and the shop is about fifty meters from where we were sitting) to give me some more prayer cards but he said he’d bring the rest tomorrow. I felt pretty bad because it’s clear that he has an interest in helping me but there is this language barrier. I noticed that both Lino and Alfred would occasionally translate what they were discussing in English to Paulu but they wouldn’t really translate anything he said back to me. Eventually Paulu left and the guys asked me to stay. I could hardly say no since they were buying AND being very informative. We talked a great deal about Maltese history and politics, human rights, religion (both in general and in Malta), tourism, language, sexism, education…you name it. But of course none of that is really what you guys are here to read about so I’ll get to the interesting stuff.
Through the course of conversation they asked me if I was familiar with “Gold Chain Man,” who is a sort of local celebrity. He’s this older man who wears tons of gold chains and gold jewelry. Picture an old, shriveled, short Maltese Mr. T with a beer belly and lamb chop sideburns. He wears a cowboy hat and a tight tank top, usually black or yellow. We saw him a lot last summer and my friend Jessica got a GREAT photo of him showing off his chains. I’ve seen him around a few times this year and I told them I find it interesting that he offers for tourists to take his photo but never wants money. Lino told me it was because he just likes the notoriety and gets a kick out of being infamous. He said he thinks his real name is George and he also thinks that George sleeps with those chains on.
They also introduced me to “Funny man” Tunie who I’ve seen around the square as well. He has that kind of balding head where the hair is just around the nape of the neck but his is bushy and white. He has a very big nose that a few hairs grow out of as well. He walks around with his shirt unbuttoned all of the time and these short shorts showing off his little chicken legs. When I asked them why they said it was because he wants to show off his machismo. I guess he’s a pensioner who has never worked a day in his life and while we sat there, the guys sent him to go get them cigarettes and paid him .70E for his trouble. He was smiling and laughing and the guys said they call him Funny Man because he’s such a character. They said he’s really very smart but just doesn’t do anything with himself and they just can’t understand it. Tunie kept telling me the lawyer is the smartest man on the island but laughing while he said it. I think they all get a kick out of giving each other crap. I felt like I was hanging out with my Uncle as they kept saying we had to have another beer “for the road.” I mistakenly told them about how my Uncle has one for the road and then one for the pavement. They thought that was genius so then they kept saying that too.
I got to meet another local character as well. This man has long white dreadlocked hair and a big toothy grin (minus his right upper first molar). His dreads were so unbelievable that I thought he was wearing one of those baseball hats with the hair attached. But sure enough, he lifted the hat to scratch his head and those locks are all his. He works for the city cleaning the streets but his favorite thing to do is hassle tourists (in good humor). Especially ladies. He tells them “Bob Marley says hello” and then he tosses his hair a little and gives them a smile. His real name though is Johnny, and according to him he’s married to a woman who lives in Germany though I couldn’t get him to tell me a straight story to save his life. I asked Johnny if he liked Bob Marley’s music (affirmative) and who else he likes to listen to. The next thing I knew, Johnny and Alfred are serenading me with Elvis songs. I guess the King really is alive and living in Malta. Lino said, “Why on earth would you need to go anywhere else when you could spend the rest of your life here in Malta living a simple life surrounded by such characters.” Why indeed?
In the end I spent a good 4 hours with those gentlemen. I couldn’t believe how quickly they took me into their confidence, saying things that I wouldn’t have guessed they would say in front of me as a woman and an outsider. For example…Lino pointed out a woman that was hobbling along and asked me if I knew why she was limping. When I said no he responded because her breasts are so big she’s ready to topple over. This resulted in fits of laughter from Alfred. At another point, Alfred noticed my tattoo on my wrist so he admitted that he thinks tattoos on women are great – especially the ones “on their butts. It’s like you are looking at them and they are saying to you, ‘kiss my butt.’” There were also times that Alfred told me stories about the people he’s represented legally. You could tell he was dying to spill particulars but kept saying that as a lawyer he could only tell me the things that were a matter of public record. I’m pretty sure he crossed the line when it suited him though. They are convinced I should change my thesis to “The Characters of Gozo” and just spend all of my time in Independence Square observing all of the “weirdos” I see. (Their words, not mine.) Oddly, they also classify my old wine pal friend Henry as one of the weirdos. Alfred said Henry was his teacher in primary school and they say he’s gotten eccentric in his old age. I told them I guessed I wasn’t surprised. It seems that often anthropologists find the “fringe” members of society more willing to talk to them than anyone else. “Of course,” I said “that certainly explains a lot about you both as well.” They ate it up. By the time our afternoon was over, Lino kissed me on the cheeks to say goodbye and Alfred called me a “sweetheart.” I’m sure I’ll be seeing them both again.
On Tuesday I was surprised to return home from the post office to find flowers and a bottle of wine delivered to my apartment from a friend back home. Gorgeous peach gerbera daisies, yellow carnations, and these big red glossy leaves that look like they have baby corn stalks poking out of them. Clearly I’m no florist. But they really liven the place up and it made me smile all day having a bit of a connection to home reach all the way to me here.
I ran into Ted, my apt owner, taking his grandkids for a walk. I decided to spring the news on him that I’m having another visitor in two weeks. So as not to risk being labeled a brazen American hussy I made sure he knew it was a female friend. He seemed okay with the idea and told me to call him if I need anything before she arrives.
I tracked down two of the local flower shops in town because I wanted to ask them about their funeral flower selections. Both shops were very busy with customers as they are also garden centers so I decided to come back at a better time when they might be more willing to sit for an interview. On my way back through St. George’s Square I finally ran into Paulu, one of the men I met last year when I was here. He doesn’t speak English but was very friendly and interested in the students here last summer. He also had given me a few funeral prayer card samples the last time I was here. I sent him and Henry a Christmas card this past December and told them of my plans to return. I also sent them copies of some photos as well. I’ve been here five weeks now and had yet to see Paulu so I was a bit surprised to finally almost literally bump into him as he was coming out of Gangus café. He immediately recognized me and gave me a big smile. I tried to ask him if he got my card with the picture by pretending to take a photo and he said Yes. He then led me into Gangus and had the owner translate for him so he could ask how long I was in town for and tell me that if I came at 11am the next day he’d bring me a bunch of prayer cards he’d saved for me.
I also spent two hours talking with the souvenir shop owner Tuesday night about a number of things ranging from the cost of electricity in Malta, to car insurance, home buyers, and her laundry business. While we were talking I saw a local man walked past wearing an old I.O.U. sweatshirt. I haven’t seen one of those since gosh 1995? We also saw a man walk through the street twice with an old boombox (I’m calling it that because it was straight up 80’s) blaring Elvis. I guess the freaks come out at night – even in Malta.
Today (Wednesday) I went to Gangus at 11 as Paulu and I discussed but he was not actually in the café, rather he was having a beer with another man under one of Gangus’ umbrellas in Independence Square. When I approached, the other man introduced himself as Lino (Lee-no) and asked if I would join them for a drink. Lino, it turned out, is a retired member of Maltese parliament, having worked there for twelve years. We were soon joined by Alfred, who is a lawyer and a law professor over at the University of Malta specializing in both family law and human rights law. If I had to guess I would say he’s probably in his mid-forties. Poor Paulu – once the two men got talking (and in English for my benefit) he was lost. He did take me over to his old shop (he used to be a butcher and the shop is about fifty meters from where we were sitting) to give me some more prayer cards but he said he’d bring the rest tomorrow. I felt pretty bad because it’s clear that he has an interest in helping me but there is this language barrier. I noticed that both Lino and Alfred would occasionally translate what they were discussing in English to Paulu but they wouldn’t really translate anything he said back to me. Eventually Paulu left and the guys asked me to stay. I could hardly say no since they were buying AND being very informative. We talked a great deal about Maltese history and politics, human rights, religion (both in general and in Malta), tourism, language, sexism, education…you name it. But of course none of that is really what you guys are here to read about so I’ll get to the interesting stuff.
Through the course of conversation they asked me if I was familiar with “Gold Chain Man,” who is a sort of local celebrity. He’s this older man who wears tons of gold chains and gold jewelry. Picture an old, shriveled, short Maltese Mr. T with a beer belly and lamb chop sideburns. He wears a cowboy hat and a tight tank top, usually black or yellow. We saw him a lot last summer and my friend Jessica got a GREAT photo of him showing off his chains. I’ve seen him around a few times this year and I told them I find it interesting that he offers for tourists to take his photo but never wants money. Lino told me it was because he just likes the notoriety and gets a kick out of being infamous. He said he thinks his real name is George and he also thinks that George sleeps with those chains on.
They also introduced me to “Funny man” Tunie who I’ve seen around the square as well. He has that kind of balding head where the hair is just around the nape of the neck but his is bushy and white. He has a very big nose that a few hairs grow out of as well. He walks around with his shirt unbuttoned all of the time and these short shorts showing off his little chicken legs. When I asked them why they said it was because he wants to show off his machismo. I guess he’s a pensioner who has never worked a day in his life and while we sat there, the guys sent him to go get them cigarettes and paid him .70E for his trouble. He was smiling and laughing and the guys said they call him Funny Man because he’s such a character. They said he’s really very smart but just doesn’t do anything with himself and they just can’t understand it. Tunie kept telling me the lawyer is the smartest man on the island but laughing while he said it. I think they all get a kick out of giving each other crap. I felt like I was hanging out with my Uncle as they kept saying we had to have another beer “for the road.” I mistakenly told them about how my Uncle has one for the road and then one for the pavement. They thought that was genius so then they kept saying that too.
I got to meet another local character as well. This man has long white dreadlocked hair and a big toothy grin (minus his right upper first molar). His dreads were so unbelievable that I thought he was wearing one of those baseball hats with the hair attached. But sure enough, he lifted the hat to scratch his head and those locks are all his. He works for the city cleaning the streets but his favorite thing to do is hassle tourists (in good humor). Especially ladies. He tells them “Bob Marley says hello” and then he tosses his hair a little and gives them a smile. His real name though is Johnny, and according to him he’s married to a woman who lives in Germany though I couldn’t get him to tell me a straight story to save his life. I asked Johnny if he liked Bob Marley’s music (affirmative) and who else he likes to listen to. The next thing I knew, Johnny and Alfred are serenading me with Elvis songs. I guess the King really is alive and living in Malta. Lino said, “Why on earth would you need to go anywhere else when you could spend the rest of your life here in Malta living a simple life surrounded by such characters.” Why indeed?
In the end I spent a good 4 hours with those gentlemen. I couldn’t believe how quickly they took me into their confidence, saying things that I wouldn’t have guessed they would say in front of me as a woman and an outsider. For example…Lino pointed out a woman that was hobbling along and asked me if I knew why she was limping. When I said no he responded because her breasts are so big she’s ready to topple over. This resulted in fits of laughter from Alfred. At another point, Alfred noticed my tattoo on my wrist so he admitted that he thinks tattoos on women are great – especially the ones “on their butts. It’s like you are looking at them and they are saying to you, ‘kiss my butt.’” There were also times that Alfred told me stories about the people he’s represented legally. You could tell he was dying to spill particulars but kept saying that as a lawyer he could only tell me the things that were a matter of public record. I’m pretty sure he crossed the line when it suited him though. They are convinced I should change my thesis to “The Characters of Gozo” and just spend all of my time in Independence Square observing all of the “weirdos” I see. (Their words, not mine.) Oddly, they also classify my old wine pal friend Henry as one of the weirdos. Alfred said Henry was his teacher in primary school and they say he’s gotten eccentric in his old age. I told them I guessed I wasn’t surprised. It seems that often anthropologists find the “fringe” members of society more willing to talk to them than anyone else. “Of course,” I said “that certainly explains a lot about you both as well.” They ate it up. By the time our afternoon was over, Lino kissed me on the cheeks to say goodbye and Alfred called me a “sweetheart.” I’m sure I’ll be seeing them both again.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
2 undertakers down, 1 to go
It’s a good thing I took my laundry in off the balcony. No sooner did I pull it inside when a complete downpour started. Those gray clouds just rained down intense and hard for about 45 minutes and then poof – the whole thing was gone. Now the skies are bright blue and the sun is out and intense just like normal. The forecast for the week is 75.
Well internet in my room is a bust. Turns out that my computer won’t take a SIM card, and I don’t want to pay the 80Euro for a flashdrive version PLUS the 30Euro monthly rate for an aircard that won’t work in the US and isn’t returnable. So back to the cafes I go. The interesting thing was that I got to “try” the aircard at my apartment for two days to see if the connection would work and because I picked it up on Friday and they are closed on Sunday, I got to keep it until Monday at no charge. I mean – there was a 50Euro deposit but I got the whole deposit back. It was nice because I was able to skype with my family for free from my apartment and not have to wear the headphone set while sitting at a crowded café with everyone staring at me.
In any case, I decided to make the best of the day anyway by calling up the 2nd of the 3 undertakers on the island, the one in Zebug with a shop in Victoria. He said he could meet me right away because he was actually in Victoria. The shop was a quick 10 minute walk from where I was at the mall so I hoofed it over there. After greeting me with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, which is something that’s never happened before, we talked for about an hour and a half. He offered me a beer while I was there, but I declined and asked for water instead. He was very informative, though he asked that I not record him because he was concerned about how bad his English would sound. I was a bit disappointed as there were some concepts that, upon trying to remember them for my notes later, I wasn’t quite sure how he explained them and I wanted to get his words right. Like everyone else I’ve spoken too, he too said I could call him for anything I needed and could come back if I’d like. He also offered me a ride back to St. George’s square which I gladly took him up on. Crazy to think that it’s been a whole month since I was inside a car. Well, in this case, a pickup truck.
In celebration of my good interview, I made myself a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch. This is huge because it means I figured out the problem with the butter. I realized that at home, the butter we/I eat is naturally salted. The butter here in the grocery store is not. (For the most part). So when I was there Saturday I found some salted Irish butter and put the world right again. Man was that grilled cheese tasty! I should also confess that I had some buttered bread with dinner when Chris and I were in Xlendi last Wednesday night. But yeah, outside of that (and the times I did the same when Wim was here and we were at a restaurant), I really don’t think I’ve used butter at all in the 5 weeks I’ve been here. It seems like such a little thing but considering how much I used it at home it’s really quite big. Of course, then again, so was I. Ha. Wah wah.
Well internet in my room is a bust. Turns out that my computer won’t take a SIM card, and I don’t want to pay the 80Euro for a flashdrive version PLUS the 30Euro monthly rate for an aircard that won’t work in the US and isn’t returnable. So back to the cafes I go. The interesting thing was that I got to “try” the aircard at my apartment for two days to see if the connection would work and because I picked it up on Friday and they are closed on Sunday, I got to keep it until Monday at no charge. I mean – there was a 50Euro deposit but I got the whole deposit back. It was nice because I was able to skype with my family for free from my apartment and not have to wear the headphone set while sitting at a crowded café with everyone staring at me.
In any case, I decided to make the best of the day anyway by calling up the 2nd of the 3 undertakers on the island, the one in Zebug with a shop in Victoria. He said he could meet me right away because he was actually in Victoria. The shop was a quick 10 minute walk from where I was at the mall so I hoofed it over there. After greeting me with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, which is something that’s never happened before, we talked for about an hour and a half. He offered me a beer while I was there, but I declined and asked for water instead. He was very informative, though he asked that I not record him because he was concerned about how bad his English would sound. I was a bit disappointed as there were some concepts that, upon trying to remember them for my notes later, I wasn’t quite sure how he explained them and I wanted to get his words right. Like everyone else I’ve spoken too, he too said I could call him for anything I needed and could come back if I’d like. He also offered me a ride back to St. George’s square which I gladly took him up on. Crazy to think that it’s been a whole month since I was inside a car. Well, in this case, a pickup truck.
In celebration of my good interview, I made myself a grilled cheese sandwich for lunch. This is huge because it means I figured out the problem with the butter. I realized that at home, the butter we/I eat is naturally salted. The butter here in the grocery store is not. (For the most part). So when I was there Saturday I found some salted Irish butter and put the world right again. Man was that grilled cheese tasty! I should also confess that I had some buttered bread with dinner when Chris and I were in Xlendi last Wednesday night. But yeah, outside of that (and the times I did the same when Wim was here and we were at a restaurant), I really don’t think I’ve used butter at all in the 5 weeks I’ve been here. It seems like such a little thing but considering how much I used it at home it’s really quite big. Of course, then again, so was I. Ha. Wah wah.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Advances in laundry
The weekend wasn't as productive as I'd hoped. But I did find a vodaphone place that offers prepaid mobile broadband. I took it for a test drive this wknd and it seems to be working well but I will know for sure after today when I take the jump drive version in to exchange it for a SIM card version and see if my computer is compatible with this crazy technology they have going over here. It would be so much easier to have it in my room! Fingers crossed.
In other news, I did laundry again folks and I need to report that I've added two very important cycles to my intricate hand washing system: "Agitate" and "Tumble." Keep in mind that I was already doing the "Soak" and "Rinse" cycles (actually a double soak but it's probably too fancy a system to lay it out properly here) and that means I've got full scale washing going on. And I've cut my time as well so that's exciting. Of course, now that the storm clouds of the fall seem ever present I'm not sure just how my clothes will get dry once we enter the rain season months but I guess I can figure that out later.
Also, I need to report that there is an attack fly in my apartment. When I leave the balcony door open an ocassional fly buzzes in but usually wanders off later. I normally enjoy watching their frenzied speed the longer they are in the apartment and looking to get out. But this bug...he's been here for 2 days now. Everytime I open the door for him to leave, he stays right put. Plus, he enjoys dive bombing me whenever I sit down. At the computer. To write notes. On the toilet. Constant harassment. I think he's trying to encourage me to get out in the field more.
I went to the hospital on Saturday because someone told me that the undertaker from Zebug has a shop there. I also figured while I was there I might be able to hit someone up for a conversation about how I can get in on some funeral action. The hospital was pretty empty but a man was kind enough to point the way to the funeral shop down the road from the hospital. It was, of course, closed. But I took down the number and I'm calling him today. I'm also revisiting the hospitalif the storm doesn't come. Why do I care about walking in a storm? Well because yours truly still has laundry drying and the clean shirt I am wearing is white. I am not going to show up for a potential interview looking like I was in a wet t-shirt contest. Then again - maybe I'd get some answers...
I also went back to Tapie's (the cafe with all of the old dudes for those of you who pay attention to these things). The place was crowded with men. I walked right in and ordered an "Iced Tea Peach" (that's how they say it here) and got the eye, in varying degrees from all of the dudes. Some were of the stink-eye variety, some evil-eye, some the ogle eye. I wrote some notes in my journal and beat it once it looked like I gained enough street cred for staying as long as I did. I think it's the kind of place though, that would warm to you if you continued going. I noticed a few expats there chatting with the locals like it was no big deal.
I've also made contact with the editor of Gozo News and I'm hoping to arrange an interview with him today. He too told me that they ring special bells for funerals so I really need to figure out which ones they are. He also told me where the public registry office is so I can look up some historic documentation. Hopefully his interview will prove to be as helpful.
And that's about it for now. I'd better pull in that laundry. At least it's not dripping wet anymore.
In other news, I did laundry again folks and I need to report that I've added two very important cycles to my intricate hand washing system: "Agitate" and "Tumble." Keep in mind that I was already doing the "Soak" and "Rinse" cycles (actually a double soak but it's probably too fancy a system to lay it out properly here) and that means I've got full scale washing going on. And I've cut my time as well so that's exciting. Of course, now that the storm clouds of the fall seem ever present I'm not sure just how my clothes will get dry once we enter the rain season months but I guess I can figure that out later.
Also, I need to report that there is an attack fly in my apartment. When I leave the balcony door open an ocassional fly buzzes in but usually wanders off later. I normally enjoy watching their frenzied speed the longer they are in the apartment and looking to get out. But this bug...he's been here for 2 days now. Everytime I open the door for him to leave, he stays right put. Plus, he enjoys dive bombing me whenever I sit down. At the computer. To write notes. On the toilet. Constant harassment. I think he's trying to encourage me to get out in the field more.
I went to the hospital on Saturday because someone told me that the undertaker from Zebug has a shop there. I also figured while I was there I might be able to hit someone up for a conversation about how I can get in on some funeral action. The hospital was pretty empty but a man was kind enough to point the way to the funeral shop down the road from the hospital. It was, of course, closed. But I took down the number and I'm calling him today. I'm also revisiting the hospitalif the storm doesn't come. Why do I care about walking in a storm? Well because yours truly still has laundry drying and the clean shirt I am wearing is white. I am not going to show up for a potential interview looking like I was in a wet t-shirt contest. Then again - maybe I'd get some answers...
I also went back to Tapie's (the cafe with all of the old dudes for those of you who pay attention to these things). The place was crowded with men. I walked right in and ordered an "Iced Tea Peach" (that's how they say it here) and got the eye, in varying degrees from all of the dudes. Some were of the stink-eye variety, some evil-eye, some the ogle eye. I wrote some notes in my journal and beat it once it looked like I gained enough street cred for staying as long as I did. I think it's the kind of place though, that would warm to you if you continued going. I noticed a few expats there chatting with the locals like it was no big deal.
I've also made contact with the editor of Gozo News and I'm hoping to arrange an interview with him today. He too told me that they ring special bells for funerals so I really need to figure out which ones they are. He also told me where the public registry office is so I can look up some historic documentation. Hopefully his interview will prove to be as helpful.
And that's about it for now. I'd better pull in that laundry. At least it's not dripping wet anymore.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Three days worth
Chris left early this morning. It was a whirlwind 3 days by Gozitan standards. We spent Tuesday bumming around Victoria. We started at the Citadel and hit the museums there which were just as underwhelming as last time I was here, though I confess a continued interest in the Old Prison. Something about it reminds me of the Count of Monte Cristo and I love that you can see engravings in the walls from the old prisoners. We had a snack at Bellusa where I kindly asked if they could replace the fries that came with my meal with crisps and they said no. We were also downwind from this shop that has this sort of olive bar that both reeks and looks highly un-hygienic. Whenever I look at the stuff in there I am very aware that if someone told me my MS rested on me eating a spoonful out of the olive buffet I would never make it. Yet people line up by the dozens throughout the day – locals and tourists. Of course – I hate olives to begin with so maybe that has something to do with it. I hope. Or I am proving once again to be a crappy anthropologist.
We made our way to St. Francis Square so we could have a cappuccino at Tapie’s, a place that I’ve avoided by myself in the past because it’s a huge gathering place for local men. Female tourists (when in groups or as a couple) will go there but you never see local females there and I never felt comfortable approaching the space. With a male by my side I figured I’d give it a go. Oddly, the person working the counter was female. As per usual though there were about anywhere from 10 – 20 men at Tapie’s and the Beehive, which is right next door. The men would sit at their tables at one spot and occasionally get up and move to the other café for a bit. Back and forth, back and forth. They didn’t seem phased by my presence but I wondered if it would be different if I was by myself. I plan to return and find out. Perhaps break the ice with one of them and see what I get.
We took a walk down main street so I could show him the Arcadia and the Duke, then came back to the apartment for showers and dinner in the Square choosing the roof garden at It-Tokk. It’s a nice spot but I prefer sitting under their umbrellas in the square as far as observations go as only the tourists go to the garden.
Wednesday we needed to be out by noon for Ted to clean the apartment as another fortnight has passed. Ted’s a very particular owner and doesn’t seem too keen on the idea of me having male guests I can’t recall if I posted about this or not but he had a past run-in with a woman who stayed in one of his places who (according to him) went to Sicily just about every weekend and brought a new guy back. Not sure how that has anything to do with her renting from him but we’re in the conservative Mediterranean here so I wasn’t surprised to hear his shock and horror. Since then he hasn’t really “allowed” guests without permission. Because Wim was just here and Ted met him, I wasn’t too thrilled about telling him I had another male guest coming so I decided to keep it on the DL so as not to get thrown out. We killed time at the Duke checking our internet before having a very unfulfilling afternoon of elusive buses. We’d planned to spend the afternoon in Ramla but the new Winter bus schedule started and it meant that the bus we wanted to take was no longer in service. We then missed the bus to Xlendi as a back up plan and gave up altogether, heading back to the apartment to wait for the next bus to Sannat.
We returned to catch th
e 5:15 bus and it ended up being perfect timing in terms of the way the rest of our evening played out so our busted afternoon was long forgotten. We got to the centre of Sannat and walked about 10 minutes or so to the edge of town to find the Ta Cenc cliffs. The area is a protected preserve area and there were several people walking around and enjoying the spectacular view. From one part of where we were standing we could see all of Comino and the Northwest shore of Malta mainland in front of us, and about half of Gozo behind us. We stood there in awe for quite a while and decided the walk through the terrible gravel path was totally worth it. Following the path to our right was an uncompromising view of the sea and the sun setting into these low hanging clouds. We took the trail a ways and then veered off, daring to get as close to the cliff edge as possible. I was determined to find the spot from the picture in the guidebook which shows a drop off much like the one at Dun Aengus in the Aran Islands. Finding it, we layed down and looked over the edge, watching some boats and scuba divers far below us and looking across to the cliffs on the other side and the other spectators enjoying the sun set. As t
he sun went behind the clouds the color started to seep through in this blood red that I’ve never seen before in my life. We were totally awestruck and watched until the final dot of red dipped into the water before we could even move.
Realizing it would get dark pretty fast we figured we’d better find the trail and we hoofed it back to the entrance of the preserve. We knew at that later hour there wouldn’t be any buses back to Victoria but rather than walking back we decided to walk instead to Xlendi and have dinner there. It was completely dark by the time we left Sannat. The road wound its way through the streets of Sannat and Munxar before opening to more of a farming community and valley area. The sky was so dark it seemed we could see just about every star in existence with the big dipper hanging so low Chris said it looked like it was going to scoop up the city. It was euphoric just to be out there. Though the walk was getting long and my knees were protesting, the cool night air staved off any sweat or exhaustion and as the road started to dip down for the descent to the Xlendi valley I couldn’t believe that I’d seen two such magnificent sights in one day. Between the sunset and the stars we decided that we would forget all about our bus fiasco of the day and revel in the evening.
We chose dinner at Zaffiro which was a place that Wim, Greta, Trish and I all had one of the best meals of the three weeks in Xlendi last year. Staying true to form, the food was again excellent and for some reason included a free bruschetta appetizer. The owner popped out to bring us the bread himself and he pointed out to us that he’d seen us on the cliffs and said hello to us! Again – small, small island! After enjoying a beer and an excellent meal, we hit the road again, this time walking back from Xlendi to Victoria. The walk only took 45 minutes though this time we were going uphill so it was a bit more daunting and less awe inspiring. By the time we got back to the apartment it was 11pm. All in all a great evening.
Yesterday we spent the morning in Xaghra at the Ggigantja temples which I think Chris was underwhelmed by but hey – I can’t always be on! We caught an earlier bus back to Victoria after snacking on s
ome Paprika chips from the local band club then went to coffee break for a snack and while we waited for the next bus. Next we went to Drewja so he could see the Azure window. This time I took the opportunity to climb down from the rocks into the water below but owing to my newfound fear of jellyfish (and sighting 3 of the largest ones I’ve ever seen) I couldn’t be persuaded to go as far out to the other rocks as Chris did. Especially given the fact that we hadn’t changed into our swimsuits and I’d accidentally gone into water up to my mid-thigh. I was a little concerned I’d hit a hole and go down further with my back pack and camera. We both got something off of the ice cream cart to cool off while we waited for the last bus out of Drewja and then crammed on with everyone else when it arrived. I always think it’s hilarious how the tourists do this mad dash for the bus as if it would be so terrible to stand for the 10 minutes it takes to drive back to Victoria if you didn’t get a seat.
Dinner was at Café Jubliee. We both had sandwiches because we weren’t that hungry (and for my part, I wanted dessert). I ordered the banana split which was pretty much precisely that – a banana on a plate, split down the middle with a minimal amount of chocolate drizzle and about a half a scoop of ice cream. For the price I paid I could buy a whole bunch of bananas and a gallon of drizzle. But hey – that’s me being the large American again. We went back to the apartment and had a bottle of wine on the balcony talking once again about all of the things we want to do first when we get back to the States. We finally went to bed at 1:30 and then it was up again at 3:45 so he could meet the taxi driver I’d arranged to pick him up at 4:15. Good times. But don’t hate on me – I’m going to work all weekend to make up for it!!!
We made our way to St. Francis Square so we could have a cappuccino at Tapie’s, a place that I’ve avoided by myself in the past because it’s a huge gathering place for local men. Female tourists (when in groups or as a couple) will go there but you never see local females there and I never felt comfortable approaching the space. With a male by my side I figured I’d give it a go. Oddly, the person working the counter was female. As per usual though there were about anywhere from 10 – 20 men at Tapie’s and the Beehive, which is right next door. The men would sit at their tables at one spot and occasionally get up and move to the other café for a bit. Back and forth, back and forth. They didn’t seem phased by my presence but I wondered if it would be different if I was by myself. I plan to return and find out. Perhaps break the ice with one of them and see what I get.
We took a walk down main street so I could show him the Arcadia and the Duke, then came back to the apartment for showers and dinner in the Square choosing the roof garden at It-Tokk. It’s a nice spot but I prefer sitting under their umbrellas in the square as far as observations go as only the tourists go to the garden.
Wednesday we needed to be out by noon for Ted to clean the apartment as another fortnight has passed. Ted’s a very particular owner and doesn’t seem too keen on the idea of me having male guests I can’t recall if I posted about this or not but he had a past run-in with a woman who stayed in one of his places who (according to him) went to Sicily just about every weekend and brought a new guy back. Not sure how that has anything to do with her renting from him but we’re in the conservative Mediterranean here so I wasn’t surprised to hear his shock and horror. Since then he hasn’t really “allowed” guests without permission. Because Wim was just here and Ted met him, I wasn’t too thrilled about telling him I had another male guest coming so I decided to keep it on the DL so as not to get thrown out. We killed time at the Duke checking our internet before having a very unfulfilling afternoon of elusive buses. We’d planned to spend the afternoon in Ramla but the new Winter bus schedule started and it meant that the bus we wanted to take was no longer in service. We then missed the bus to Xlendi as a back up plan and gave up altogether, heading back to the apartment to wait for the next bus to Sannat.
We returned to catch th
e 5:15 bus and it ended up being perfect timing in terms of the way the rest of our evening played out so our busted afternoon was long forgotten. We got to the centre of Sannat and walked about 10 minutes or so to the edge of town to find the Ta Cenc cliffs. The area is a protected preserve area and there were several people walking around and enjoying the spectacular view. From one part of where we were standing we could see all of Comino and the Northwest shore of Malta mainland in front of us, and about half of Gozo behind us. We stood there in awe for quite a while and decided the walk through the terrible gravel path was totally worth it. Following the path to our right was an uncompromising view of the sea and the sun setting into these low hanging clouds. We took the trail a ways and then veered off, daring to get as close to the cliff edge as possible. I was determined to find the spot from the picture in the guidebook which shows a drop off much like the one at Dun Aengus in the Aran Islands. Finding it, we layed down and looked over the edge, watching some boats and scuba divers far below us and looking across to the cliffs on the other side and the other spectators enjoying the sun set. As t
he sun went behind the clouds the color started to seep through in this blood red that I’ve never seen before in my life. We were totally awestruck and watched until the final dot of red dipped into the water before we could even move.Realizing it would get dark pretty fast we figured we’d better find the trail and we hoofed it back to the entrance of the preserve. We knew at that later hour there wouldn’t be any buses back to Victoria but rather than walking back we decided to walk instead to Xlendi and have dinner there. It was completely dark by the time we left Sannat. The road wound its way through the streets of Sannat and Munxar before opening to more of a farming community and valley area. The sky was so dark it seemed we could see just about every star in existence with the big dipper hanging so low Chris said it looked like it was going to scoop up the city. It was euphoric just to be out there. Though the walk was getting long and my knees were protesting, the cool night air staved off any sweat or exhaustion and as the road started to dip down for the descent to the Xlendi valley I couldn’t believe that I’d seen two such magnificent sights in one day. Between the sunset and the stars we decided that we would forget all about our bus fiasco of the day and revel in the evening.
We chose dinner at Zaffiro which was a place that Wim, Greta, Trish and I all had one of the best meals of the three weeks in Xlendi last year. Staying true to form, the food was again excellent and for some reason included a free bruschetta appetizer. The owner popped out to bring us the bread himself and he pointed out to us that he’d seen us on the cliffs and said hello to us! Again – small, small island! After enjoying a beer and an excellent meal, we hit the road again, this time walking back from Xlendi to Victoria. The walk only took 45 minutes though this time we were going uphill so it was a bit more daunting and less awe inspiring. By the time we got back to the apartment it was 11pm. All in all a great evening.
Yesterday we spent the morning in Xaghra at the Ggigantja temples which I think Chris was underwhelmed by but hey – I can’t always be on! We caught an earlier bus back to Victoria after snacking on s
ome Paprika chips from the local band club then went to coffee break for a snack and while we waited for the next bus. Next we went to Drewja so he could see the Azure window. This time I took the opportunity to climb down from the rocks into the water below but owing to my newfound fear of jellyfish (and sighting 3 of the largest ones I’ve ever seen) I couldn’t be persuaded to go as far out to the other rocks as Chris did. Especially given the fact that we hadn’t changed into our swimsuits and I’d accidentally gone into water up to my mid-thigh. I was a little concerned I’d hit a hole and go down further with my back pack and camera. We both got something off of the ice cream cart to cool off while we waited for the last bus out of Drewja and then crammed on with everyone else when it arrived. I always think it’s hilarious how the tourists do this mad dash for the bus as if it would be so terrible to stand for the 10 minutes it takes to drive back to Victoria if you didn’t get a seat.Dinner was at Café Jubliee. We both had sandwiches because we weren’t that hungry (and for my part, I wanted dessert). I ordered the banana split which was pretty much precisely that – a banana on a plate, split down the middle with a minimal amount of chocolate drizzle and about a half a scoop of ice cream. For the price I paid I could buy a whole bunch of bananas and a gallon of drizzle. But hey – that’s me being the large American again. We went back to the apartment and had a bottle of wine on the balcony talking once again about all of the things we want to do first when we get back to the States. We finally went to bed at 1:30 and then it was up again at 3:45 so he could meet the taxi driver I’d arranged to pick him up at 4:15. Good times. But don’t hate on me – I’m going to work all weekend to make up for it!!!
Monday, October 5, 2009
Sundays in Gozo
Sundays in Gozo are interesting. During the day the place is dead where locals are concerned. Tourists, of course, are ever prevalent. But locals are not really out other than to go to church and during the day all of the shops are closed and about half the cafes are as well. I walked to Kercem yesterday in the afternoon because the map I have indicates there are “catacombs” on the road out of Victoria leading to Kercem. I found no such thing but I’ve found the map I have to be somewhat unreliable when it comes to items like that. Then again, in terms of the way the Gozitans preserve their antiquity, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was right under my nose somewhere and I didn’t know it because they hadn’t posted a sign.
It’s a short walk to Kercem – it took me 45 minutes but I was really dawdling and taking pictures so I’d guess it’s closer to 25 – 30 minutes at a regular pace. The town was as dead as Victoria when I walked through with the exception of a few heads poking out of a local bar as I walked past.
On the way back I was struck at how the traffic (both pedestrian and automobile) had picked up. There were even police manning the intersection from the Citadel to the Triq Republikka. I was kind of afraid that I, once again, missed a funeral. I noticed, however, that none of the cars contained people wearing black, and I didn’t see any mourners walking around like last time. After showering I headed back out and the streets were suddenly alive with people. I couldn’t believe the transformation, especially in comparison to the same time the night before on a Saturday. Where were all of these people on a Saturday night and how come they were suddenly out on Sunday? The streets were filled with parked cars and cars that were just half pulled over. Some spots double parked. The Teatru Astra was full of people (normally it’s just a handful of regulars) and the Teatru Avalon was jam packed with people playing BINGO. All the way down Triq Republikka there were food cart vendors parked all over the place. Families were eating out of their cars or getting pizza to go. I walked up past the bus depot toward St. Francis Square and it was lit up like it was a festa. (Turns out it was the Feast Day of St. Francis...duh) People were packed in by Tapie’s Café and Kilena’s shop/parking area also getting food and taking it to go or eating in their cars. I wondered if it was some leftover vestige of the fact that it’s Sunday and you’re not supposed to work on Sunday (which includes cooking).
Today (Monday) I went to the Post Office to get some stamps and ended up making a contact with a guy who works there. He asked me where I as from so I told him my usual spiel. He offered to meet with me sometime for an interview or to show me some of the cemeteries since each town has their own. He lives in Qala and I haven’t been there yet so that would be pretty helpful. While we were talking I decided to ask him about why it was so packed here last night and he confirmed my suspicions. He said that because people don’t work on Sundays they come out for a treat with their families. I’m going to have to pay attention to this more closely next Sunday.
After the PO I decided to go to a shop around the corner from me owned by Mario, a guy who was a contact of mine last summer. I haven’t bothered him yet since I’ve been here this time and as I came up to the shop he recognized me immediately and smiled right away. We talked for 45 minutes about his year and what he’s been up to. He’s just finished his Masters in Theology and also has a degree in Philosophy. He teaches German at the primary school, spent a year in Austria studying, and owns a shop in the square that he works in when school is out (after 2:30 everyday and all through the summer.) He had some very helpful information about another library over at the Seminary and was able to give me some contact information for a younger priest who is a friend of his. I also got to meet his mother who was helping him close the shop. When I had my interview at BCD the woman there said that the undertaker in Zebug is more popular and does more funerals than anyone else. I asked Mario about it and he agreed and said that he has a storefront/shop in the hospital here in Victoria so you don’t even have to go all the way to Zebug to find him. Like everyone I’ve met here, Mario ended our conversation with telling me that if I need anything I can stop by anytime and reminded me what times he is in his shop. I was reminded again of a conversation I’d had with several of my fellow friends from field school last summer about how intimidating the Gozitans can look outwardly but how helpful they are once you break the ice with them. I hope this continues to be the case because I can use all of the help I can get!
My friend Chris Levesque arrives tomorrow morning for a quick 3 day trip….maybe he’ll be interested in checking out an undertaker shop at the local hospital with me!?
It’s a short walk to Kercem – it took me 45 minutes but I was really dawdling and taking pictures so I’d guess it’s closer to 25 – 30 minutes at a regular pace. The town was as dead as Victoria when I walked through with the exception of a few heads poking out of a local bar as I walked past.
On the way back I was struck at how the traffic (both pedestrian and automobile) had picked up. There were even police manning the intersection from the Citadel to the Triq Republikka. I was kind of afraid that I, once again, missed a funeral. I noticed, however, that none of the cars contained people wearing black, and I didn’t see any mourners walking around like last time. After showering I headed back out and the streets were suddenly alive with people. I couldn’t believe the transformation, especially in comparison to the same time the night before on a Saturday. Where were all of these people on a Saturday night and how come they were suddenly out on Sunday? The streets were filled with parked cars and cars that were just half pulled over. Some spots double parked. The Teatru Astra was full of people (normally it’s just a handful of regulars) and the Teatru Avalon was jam packed with people playing BINGO. All the way down Triq Republikka there were food cart vendors parked all over the place. Families were eating out of their cars or getting pizza to go. I walked up past the bus depot toward St. Francis Square and it was lit up like it was a festa. (Turns out it was the Feast Day of St. Francis...duh) People were packed in by Tapie’s Café and Kilena’s shop/parking area also getting food and taking it to go or eating in their cars. I wondered if it was some leftover vestige of the fact that it’s Sunday and you’re not supposed to work on Sunday (which includes cooking).
Today (Monday) I went to the Post Office to get some stamps and ended up making a contact with a guy who works there. He asked me where I as from so I told him my usual spiel. He offered to meet with me sometime for an interview or to show me some of the cemeteries since each town has their own. He lives in Qala and I haven’t been there yet so that would be pretty helpful. While we were talking I decided to ask him about why it was so packed here last night and he confirmed my suspicions. He said that because people don’t work on Sundays they come out for a treat with their families. I’m going to have to pay attention to this more closely next Sunday.
After the PO I decided to go to a shop around the corner from me owned by Mario, a guy who was a contact of mine last summer. I haven’t bothered him yet since I’ve been here this time and as I came up to the shop he recognized me immediately and smiled right away. We talked for 45 minutes about his year and what he’s been up to. He’s just finished his Masters in Theology and also has a degree in Philosophy. He teaches German at the primary school, spent a year in Austria studying, and owns a shop in the square that he works in when school is out (after 2:30 everyday and all through the summer.) He had some very helpful information about another library over at the Seminary and was able to give me some contact information for a younger priest who is a friend of his. I also got to meet his mother who was helping him close the shop. When I had my interview at BCD the woman there said that the undertaker in Zebug is more popular and does more funerals than anyone else. I asked Mario about it and he agreed and said that he has a storefront/shop in the hospital here in Victoria so you don’t even have to go all the way to Zebug to find him. Like everyone I’ve met here, Mario ended our conversation with telling me that if I need anything I can stop by anytime and reminded me what times he is in his shop. I was reminded again of a conversation I’d had with several of my fellow friends from field school last summer about how intimidating the Gozitans can look outwardly but how helpful they are once you break the ice with them. I hope this continues to be the case because I can use all of the help I can get!
My friend Chris Levesque arrives tomorrow morning for a quick 3 day trip….maybe he’ll be interested in checking out an undertaker shop at the local hospital with me!?
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Scully and Mulder - some stats
Now that my days are getting to be more routine and more “work” related, I’m not sure how much I’ll be sharing with you all, and what the nature of the posts will be – especially if the work is technically supposed to be anonymous. Kilena being the exception as she said she didn’t care if I used her name. She said, “What for? Everything I tell you is truth and is about me. No one else.” Here here Kilena. So things might get progressively boring for y’all from here on out. (doubtful considering there’s always some good story about me being a dumb American and/or a dumb Anthropologist).
In any case, my friend Marcus loaned me the first 4 seasons of the X-Files. I was a "fan" when the show was on but didn't watch religiously so some of the episodes I've not seen before. I’ve been watching them at night before bed and though it’s only halfway through the second season, I couldn’t help being surprised at some statistics for the characters. I’ve decided to post my observations here and will update them as the series progresses.
Scully and Mulder have:
Been flown/shipped into a contained area to see what happened to a team of people: IIII
Been Quarantined or hospitalized as a result: III
Deferred or referred to Anthropologists: II
Scully has:
Had her home broken into: III
Has been taken hostage: III*
Has possibly been abducted by aliens: I
Has been in a coma: I
Has used shock paddles on Mulder: I
Has worn a fanny pack: I
Has done an elephant autopsy: I
*the hostage taking does not necessarily correspond to the break-ins.
Mulder has:
Been hit by a car: I
Had his apartment searched/ransacked: II
Had alien blood contaminate him: I
Gone off on his own and left Scully to follow his trail/save his life: II*
Slept with someone who drinks blood: I
Has worn speedos (to my surprising delight): I
*the number of incidents where she saved his life (or vice versa) is higher but this refers to the times he hasn’t told her where he was going and she had to figure it out all sleuth-like and then found him passed out somewhere.
In any case, my friend Marcus loaned me the first 4 seasons of the X-Files. I was a "fan" when the show was on but didn't watch religiously so some of the episodes I've not seen before. I’ve been watching them at night before bed and though it’s only halfway through the second season, I couldn’t help being surprised at some statistics for the characters. I’ve decided to post my observations here and will update them as the series progresses.
Scully and Mulder have:
Been flown/shipped into a contained area to see what happened to a team of people: IIII
Been Quarantined or hospitalized as a result: III
Deferred or referred to Anthropologists: II
Scully has:
Had her home broken into: III
Has been taken hostage: III*
Has possibly been abducted by aliens: I
Has been in a coma: I
Has used shock paddles on Mulder: I
Has worn a fanny pack: I
Has done an elephant autopsy: I
*the hostage taking does not necessarily correspond to the break-ins.
Mulder has:
Been hit by a car: I
Had his apartment searched/ransacked: II
Had alien blood contaminate him: I
Gone off on his own and left Scully to follow his trail/save his life: II*
Slept with someone who drinks blood: I
Has worn speedos (to my surprising delight): I
*the number of incidents where she saved his life (or vice versa) is higher but this refers to the times he hasn’t told her where he was going and she had to figure it out all sleuth-like and then found him passed out somewhere.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Great excitement over a little thing
10/1
I thought I was going to have a huge break through today. I woke up to the sound of the church bells that Wim and I heard last week the day I missed a funeral. I thought for sure it would mean that there would be a funeral at St. George’s this evening. But alas, after waiting around Independence Square for the motorcade (is that what it’s called?) for an hour and a half I had bupkiss and the locals were starting to stare at me because of course I was stupid enough to think I could stand there rather than sitting more subtly sipping a cappuccino. Ha. Dumb American anthropologist. I went back to my apartment to use the bathroom and get some water and watched for another hour getting jazzed everytime I saw someone dressed all in black. But 6:15pm rolled around and there was nothing. So if there was a funeral in Victoria today, it was NOT at St. George’s despite the fact that those “special” bells rang there this morning and this afternoon. Grrr.
Abandoning my post, I decided to circle back with the florist I’d spoken with on Tuesday. She was again very friendly and helpful. Today she explained to me the way a Maltese wedding works. Fascinating how similar things are to weddings at home and yet different at the same time…
As I wasn’t online yesterday I should probably mention that I also had a third interview with Kilena yesterday which went well. I also got to meet her best friend and neighbor so that was interesting. I downloaded and read a few articles – one on Maltese monuments, one on the emigration that occurred in the 60’s, and another one that’s an old ethnology from the 20’s.
The best news of today, despite the lack of funeral was that a gift from heaven was left on my doorstep. The Maltese Yellow Pages! I can’t believe how ecstatic I am about that little book. I spent a good hour pouring over the information underneath “funeral services,” checking addresses and locations, verifying information, etc. For example, the YP confirms that there are only 3 undertakers on the island. It also confirms that there are only Catholic churches here as well – 30 of them to be precise. I’m pumped. It will be so much easier to target the “allied industries” this way than it would’ve been continuing to search via the internet – it was the proverbial needle in a haystack routine and it was getting seriously old. I think tomorrow morning will be spent using my new best friend, the YP, to make some appointments with some print shops, florists, and churches. Cue music “Ain’t no stoppin’ us now…”
10/2
I had an interview with the owner of BCD Printing today! Not much else to add at this point – still processing it all but it went great and I came away from it with more prayer card samples – including one from when the business first started!
I thought I was going to have a huge break through today. I woke up to the sound of the church bells that Wim and I heard last week the day I missed a funeral. I thought for sure it would mean that there would be a funeral at St. George’s this evening. But alas, after waiting around Independence Square for the motorcade (is that what it’s called?) for an hour and a half I had bupkiss and the locals were starting to stare at me because of course I was stupid enough to think I could stand there rather than sitting more subtly sipping a cappuccino. Ha. Dumb American anthropologist. I went back to my apartment to use the bathroom and get some water and watched for another hour getting jazzed everytime I saw someone dressed all in black. But 6:15pm rolled around and there was nothing. So if there was a funeral in Victoria today, it was NOT at St. George’s despite the fact that those “special” bells rang there this morning and this afternoon. Grrr.
Abandoning my post, I decided to circle back with the florist I’d spoken with on Tuesday. She was again very friendly and helpful. Today she explained to me the way a Maltese wedding works. Fascinating how similar things are to weddings at home and yet different at the same time…
As I wasn’t online yesterday I should probably mention that I also had a third interview with Kilena yesterday which went well. I also got to meet her best friend and neighbor so that was interesting. I downloaded and read a few articles – one on Maltese monuments, one on the emigration that occurred in the 60’s, and another one that’s an old ethnology from the 20’s.
The best news of today, despite the lack of funeral was that a gift from heaven was left on my doorstep. The Maltese Yellow Pages! I can’t believe how ecstatic I am about that little book. I spent a good hour pouring over the information underneath “funeral services,” checking addresses and locations, verifying information, etc. For example, the YP confirms that there are only 3 undertakers on the island. It also confirms that there are only Catholic churches here as well – 30 of them to be precise. I’m pumped. It will be so much easier to target the “allied industries” this way than it would’ve been continuing to search via the internet – it was the proverbial needle in a haystack routine and it was getting seriously old. I think tomorrow morning will be spent using my new best friend, the YP, to make some appointments with some print shops, florists, and churches. Cue music “Ain’t no stoppin’ us now…”
10/2
I had an interview with the owner of BCD Printing today! Not much else to add at this point – still processing it all but it went great and I came away from it with more prayer card samples – including one from when the business first started!
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